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LIFE IN EARNEST'; 



OR, 



MEMOIRS AND REMAINS 



REV. ZENAS CALDWELL, A.B., 



FIRST PRINCIPAL OF THE MAINE "WESLEYAN SEMINARY. 



STEPHEN M?VAIL, A.M. 



BOSTON: 
J. P. MA GEE, 5 CORN HILL. 

CARLTON & PHILLIPS, 200 MULBERRY STREET, N. Y. 

1 85 5. 



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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 
STEPHEN M. VAIL, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts, 



By Exchange 
American TJn War ait? 

om, am* 



STEREOTYPED AT THE 
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. 



PREFACE. 



Nearly thirty years ago the subject of this 
memoir closed his earthly career. The friends of 
Mr. Z. Caldwell have for a long time felt that a 
brief record of his life would not only be a work 
of justice to his memory, but would also be 
acceptable and profitable to the living. Through 
a train of providences which it is not necessary 
here to relate, the duty of accomplishing this work 
has fallen to my hands. I am aware that those 
who knew Mr. Caldwell will judge that much 
more might have been written to advantage con- 
cerning him; but I have done the best I could 
with the scanty materials which have come into 
my hands. 

The subject of the memoir was a young man of 
fine talents and of earnest piety. His desire to 
be useful was an absorbing feeling. His life gave 
1 * (5) 



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PREFACE. 



good evidence that he loved his God with all his 
heart, and his fellow-men as himself. Hence his 
life was earnest. It was devout. It was full 
of labor, and all that he had was freely offered 
for the purpose of doing good. 

The title I have chosen for the work — " Life 
in Earnest " — well expresses the character of its 
subject. The memoir of the late lamented Pro- 
fessor M. Caldwell, may be expected to follow 
this in the course of another year. 

May the divine blessing accompany this little 
volume, and make it especially useful to such 
young men as may peruse its pages. 

Stephen M. Yail. 

Concord, November 24, 1854. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Feelings of the Writer. — Early Methodist Preachers in New England. 

— William and Nancy Caldwell. — Zenas, their first Child. — His 
early Love of Books, especially the Bible. — Anecdote Page 

CHAPTER II. 

Mrs. Nancy Caldwell. — Her Conversion and Desire for a clean Heart 

— Obtains the Blessing. — Considers herself responsible for the Con- 
version of her Children. — Conversion of Zenas. — A Family Class 

Meeting Sickness of Zenas. — Answer to Prayer. — Resolves on 

obtaining an Education. — Regard for his Mother. — Family Religion. 

— Incidents. — Parental Influence 

CHAPTER III. 

Zenas resolves on an Education. — Commences the Study of Latin. — 
Pecuniary Difficulties. — How removed. — Teaches a Public School. — 
Letter to a Friend. — Teaches another Public School, in Waterford. — 
Goes to Monmouth Academy. — "Desire of Eminence." — Virtue 
alone is Happiness below. — Teaches a School in Hebron 

CHAPTER IV. 

Life in College. — His Diary. — Religious State. — The Theological So- 
ciety. — Essay on " Whether Volition be free, and not determined by 
Motives." — Inclined to Metaphysics and Poetry. — " Does Personal 
Identity consist in Consciousness ? " — Latin Oration on the Elo- 
quence of the Romans 

CHAPTER V. 

Mr. Caldwell's College Class. — Professor Stowe and President Pierce 
Members of it. — Description of it by Mr. Hawthorne. — Pierce and 
Caldwell became Roommates. — Regard for each other. — Pierce takes 

(7) 



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CONTEXTS. 



a Public School, and boards in the Caldwell Family.— Caldwell 
teaches a Winter School in Paris. — Letters to Mr. Eliphalet Clark. — 
Caldwell and Pierce return to College. — Their senior Studies.— 
Caldwell President of the Theological Society. — Pronounces its Anni- 
versary Address. — His Graduation. — His religious Habits in College. 56 

CHAPTER VI. 

Life as a Teacher. — Takes Charge of the Hallowell Academy. — Rea- 
sons for this Step. — Reflections. — Enters upon his Duties. — Corre- 
spondence with his Friend Pierce ; with Mr. J. M. Merrick ; with his 
Mother. — First Efforts at Preaching. — Letter to W. C. Larrabee. — 
Licensed to preach. — Supplies the Congregation at Winthrop 74 

CHAPTER VII. 

Methodistical Education in New England. — Maine Wesleyan Seminary 
established. — Mr. Caldwell chosen first Principal. — Congratulations 
of his Friend Pierce. — Enters upon his Labors at the Seminary. — 



Opinion on the Randall Controversy. — Greatly beloved by his Pupils. 

— Waning Health 88 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Mr. Caldwell enters upon the Duties of a new Term. — Becomes too 
feeble to attend to his Duties. — Returns Home. — Feelings in View 
of Death. — Address to his Pupils. — Rev. D. Kilburn's Visit and Ac- 
count of his Death. — His triumphant Departure. — Reflections. — 
Tributes to his Memory 101 

CHAPTER IX. 

Recollections of Mr. Caldwell, by Rev. W. C. Larrabee, LL. D., Super- 
intendent of Public Instruction in the State of Indiana 124 

CHAPTER X. 

His Poetical Remains 138 

CHAPTER XI. 

His Prose Remains.. 155 



LIFE IN EARNEST. 



CHAPTER I. 

Feelings of the Writer. — Early Methodist Preachers 
in New England. — William and Nancy Caldwell. 
— Zenas, their first Child. — His early Love of 
Books, especially the Bible. — Jlnecdote. 

In sitting down to write the life of a young 
man highly distinguished for his talents and his 
piety, whose example in all respects is worthy of 
the highest commendation, I feel the need of the 
special aid of that Spirit "which searcheth all 
things.' 7 So elevated an example of earnest Chris- 
tian devotion cannot be properly described but by 
one of a similar spirit. With a trembling hand, 
therefore, but with a confiding heart, the write! 
would humbly, yet earnestly, invoke the presence 
and aid of the divine Spirit in the accomplishment 
of his work. 

(9) 



10 



EARLY METHODIST PREACHERS. 



In the latter part of the last century, the pio- 
neers of Methodism penetrated into the forests of 
Maine, preaching the gospel to the early and scat- 
tered settlers. The names of Jesse Lee, Enoch 
Mudge, Philip Wager, Joshua Taylor, John Brod- 
head, Timothy Merritt, and George Pickering are 
still held sacred in the memories of the veteran 
members of the Methodist Episcopal church in New 
England. They sounded out the gospel, from 1792 
and onward, in various parts of this land, and no- 
where with greater success than in the remote wil- 
derness of the Province of Maine. Many received 
their testimony, and were made glad, having re- 
ceived forgiveness of sin through faith in our Lord 
Jesus Christ. Many others were awakened, and 
were induced to reform their lives ; and a general 
seriousness spread through the neighborhoods 
where these men preached. 

Among others, William and Nancy Caldwell, 
the parents of the lamented young man whose 
history we are about to trace, became awakened 
to their lost condition. For many long months, 
and even years, did Miss Woodward, afterwards 
Mrs. Caldwell, continue under the most powerful 
convictions for sin, till finally, under the teach- 
ing of the early pioneers of Methodism, she was 
enabled to rejoice in Christ as her Savior, and 
has ever since lived a remarkable example of 
faithfulness and of deep religious experience. 



BIRTH OF ZENAS. 



11 



She is still living at the advanced age of sev- 
enty-three years, laboring under many bodily in- 
firmities ; but her spirit is young, trusting, hope- 
ful, and happy, waiting for its release, and, like 
the apostle, "desiring to depart and be with 
Christ.' 7 

In the spring of 1799, she was united in mar- 
riage to Mr. William Caldwell, then a young man 
twenty-four years of age. When he was yet quite 
young, his parents left their ancestral home in Ips- 
wich, Massachusetts, to try their fortunes in the 
new country then called the District of Maine. 

Like his pious companion, he was religiously 
educated, and at this early period had become 
attached to the Methodist people and the Method- 
ist ministry — a people then every where spoken 
against. They settled in Hebron, in the county 
of Oxford, Maine ; and reared their tabernacle 
in the wilderness, not only as the place of their 
sojourn, but also as the place where the servants 
of God might have a home ; and so it has con- 
tinued to be for upwards of half a century. 

In the following spring, on the 31st day of 
March, 1800, Zenas Caldwell, their first child, was 
born. He was called Zenas after the good old 
Puritan custom of appropriating Scripture names, 
so common among the people of New England. 
From his infancy he was a delicate child, of nervous 
temperament, and of a very susceptible nature. 
He was a child of more than ordinary beauty, 



12 



THE PKESENT OF A BIBLE. 



with a light skin, auburn hair, and bright hazel eyes. 
At an early age he became the idol of his parents 
and of the neighborhood, and displayed great ap- 
titude for learning, and never was more delighted 
than when his mother taught him or read to him 
out of the Holy Scriptures concerning the holy 
men of old, as Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, 
and others. He had a passion for books and for 
reading. His Bible, especially, early became his 
companion during his leisure hours ; and even in 
the lone watches of the night he was known often 
to take his Bible with him, and peruse it sitting 
up in his bed. Mr. Caldwell, his father, was a 
farmer, and the son was necessarily occupied, as 
soon as his age was sufficient, in the labors and 
toils of a New England farmer's boy. But he re- 
deemed the time. In the intervals of his duties 
his book was in his hand. His mind was quick 
in its movements, and his memory was tenacious. 
At the age of fourteen he committed forty-one 
chapters of the Gospels to memory in six weeks. 
His schoolmates used to laugh at him, and say he 
would certainly become a minister, he read and 
committed to memory so much of the Scriptures. 
He was stimulated in this effort by his teacher in 
the district school, who proposed to give a Bible 
to that one of his scholars who would commit to 
memory the greatest number of verses of Scrip- 
ture. Zenas Caldwell gained the prize, and the 



AN INCIDENT. 



13 



Bible * was given to him, and ever after remained a 
precious treasure to him both at home and abroad. 
It is still preserved in the family, and has wit- 
nessed many prayers and tears of its devoted 
owner ; and the precious truths it contains have a 
thousand times given him joy and triumph in his 
moral and spiritual conflicts. It should also be 
added that, while committing these scriptures to 
memory, he attended to his studies as usual, and 
had many other cares and duties that occupied his 
time at home. 

Another incident which occurred when he was 
a child deserves to be mentioned. When quite 
young, the Methodist minister of the circuit board- 
ed at the house of his father, and on one occa- 
sion took the little boy Zenas with him to church. 

* This Bible is of the same size and quality, as to printing, paper, 
and binding, as the present issues of the American Bible Society 
for twenty-five cents. It has the appearance of having been well 
used, and has an autograph of Zenas, dated Brunswick, April 10, 
1823. This was while Zenas was a member of the junior class in 
Bowdoin College, and it shows that he used this copy of the Bible 
while a student in college. 

On the back of the title page is the following inscription. 



The Property of 
ZENAS CALDWELL, 
March 1, 1814. 



2 



14 



LOYE OF STUDY. 



The little fellow trotted along up the pulpit steps 
after the man of God. As the attention of the 
preacher was attracted by the child, he remarked, 
with much solemnity and confidence, " This child 
will yet enter the pulpit as a minister of Christ." 
So the result proved, though his race was short, 
alas ! too short, speaking after the manner of 
men. 

Young Zenas continued to improve his mind. 
The studies of the district school were thoroughly 
mastered, and he read with great avidity such 
good books as he was able to obtain. After the 
labors of the farm were over for the day, he would 
not waste his time in idleness or in boyish play, 
but made his books his companions, and stored his 
mind with useful knowledge, and thus attained, at 
an early age, a very high degree of mental disci- 
pline and mental wealth. We now pass to pre- 
sent, in the next chapter, an account of his early 
religious character. 



CHAPTER II. 



Mrs. Nancy Caldwell. — Her Conversion and Desire 
for a clean Heart. — Obtains the Blessing. — Con- 
siders herself responsible for the Conversion of her 
Children. — Conversion of Zenas. — A Family 
Class Meeting. — Sickness of Zenas. — Answer 
to Prayer. — Resolves on obtaining an Education. 
— Regard for his Mother. — Family Religion. — 
Incidents. — Parental Influence. 

We purpose, in this chapter, to speak more par- 
ticularly of the early religious history of young 
Zenas ; but, in order to give a true impression of 
the piety of the son, it will be necessary to go 
back and speak a little more at length of the 
religious history of his excellent mother. 

Mrs. Nancy Caldwell was serious from her early 
years ; and when the first Methodist ministers trav- 
elled in Maine, she heard them with joy, and be- 
came more than ever anxious about her salvation. 
In 1796, in her fifteenth year, she was convert- 
ed, and joined the Methodists. About the same 
time, also, her father and mother, sisters and 
brothers, all became members of the Methodist 
Episcopal church. In her nineteenth year she 

(15) 



16 



HER DESIRE FOR A CLEAN HEART. 



entered into the double cares of her own and 
the family of her father-in-law. This heavy 
charge proved too much for her delicate constitu- 
tion and highly-susceptible mind. In about two 
years her health was greatly impaired ; and, in 
connection with this, great spiritual darkness 
rested on her mind. 

About this time one of the Methodist ministers 
called to see her, and told her that she must be 
sanctified. She now read the Scriptures with a 
new understanding, and was especially instructed 
and profited by the Memoirs of the pious Hester 
Ann Rogers. The next year she was much af- 
flicted with sickness, having now two children, 
and one of them in feeble health. The thoughts 
of leaving these children were worse than death ; 
and she saw the need more than ever of a clean 
heart. After many sore conflicts with the adver- 
sary, she attained the blessing of full salvation. 
She felt immediately that she must bear a public 
testimony of what the Lord had done for her soul. 
These three questions were distinctly impressed 
upon her mind : 1. Will you bear this testimony ? 
2. Will you pray in your family ? (Mr. Caldwell, 
her husband, was a professor of religion, but had 
not yet entered upon this duty.) 3. Will you fall 
on your face and make the sacrifice ? Through 
grace she was enabled to say, I will ; and gave 
herself to God, soul and body. This was on the 
first day of March, 1806 — a day long to be re- 



CONVERSION OF HER CHILDREN. 



17 



membered, and ever afterwards held sacred, by her 
as one of the days her God had blessed. She felt 
perfectly free from the defilement of sin, and re- 
joiced in God as the rock of her full salvation. 
She at once entered upon every duty, and felt it 
to be sweet to run in the way of God's command- 
ments. She asked her husband to observe with 
her a day of fasting and prayer in reference to 
the duty of family worship. He united with her, 
and proposed to lead these devotions in the 
morning, while Mrs. Caldwell, at his request, led 
those of the evening. Thus these truly pious per- 
sons set up the family altar in the early part of 
their married life, and for more than half a cen- 
tury it has continued to stand, and the fires of 
devotion have continued to burn thereon without 
going out. 

By the enjoyment of perfect love the excellent 
mother of Zenas was better prepared to train up 
her children. As she had obtained this great 
blessing by faith, so she believed it must be re- 
tained by faith, and that nothing could deprive 
her of this blessing but unbelief or voluntary 
transgression. A burning desire took hold of her 
mind for the salvation of others. She exhorted 
her unconverted physician and neighbors to turn 
unto God. 

A few years after this she remarks in her jour- 
nal, " As a mother, I considered myself wholly 
responsible for the conversion of my children." 
2* 



18 SOLICITUDE IN THEIR RELIGIOUS TRAINING. 



" Having four precious immortals committed to my 
trust, I was aware that their final destiny might 
turn on their early training. 0, how inadequate 
to such a task ! What would I not have given to 
have had the advantages which many have now, 
while the best means that can be desired for train- 
ing children are issuing from the press in various 
forms ! 

" Thank God," she continues, " he took the will 
for the deed. I commenced weeding my garden 
in the spring, at the same time sowing the good 
seed ; and when I could not extract the wild 
plants of nature by the roots, I plucked them off 
until the good seed gained the ascendency." 

Again she remarks, " My children have been 
heard to say they knew not the time when they be- 
gan to pray, they were so young. Though for their 
health and happiness I spared no pains, yet the 
welfare of their souls was my greatest concern." 

Mrs. Caldwell's health continued poor for many 
years. Hence she says, " I had long been expect- 
ing to leave them, [her children,] not knowing 
what things would befall them in this world of 
danger. None but a mother's heart can tell what 
my feelings have been." 

When Zenas was thirteen years old, his mother 
was lying very sick, and was not expected to re- 
cover. He came into the room, and the nurse 
said, " Zenas, you had better go out, as the doctor 
said the room must be kept still." His mother 



CONVERSION OP ZENAS. 



19 



answered, " Let him stay ; and if he has any thing 
to say, let him say it." He hastened to her bedside, 
and, with the deepest emotions, said, " Mother, can 
you forgive me ? I have been a disobedient child." 
His mother replied, " Yes ; I can forgive you where- 
in you have done wrong, for God has forgiven 
me, though I have erred much." I presume no one 
thought he was a disobedient child. He contin- 
ued, with overflowing tears, " How can I have you 
taken away before I have religion? I shall be 
left like a sheep without a shepherd. Do beg of 
father to keep me out of bad company." His 
mother exhorted him to seek his salvation ; and he 
then decided that he would seek for it at the loss 
of all things. 

He prayed earnestly to God, and the Lord 
hearkened and heard this little child's prayer ; 
bowed the highest heavens, and came down, and 
spoke peace to his troubled heart. The work of 
grace, however, was not sudden, but gradual. 

" In the fall of 1813," his mother says, " I became 
exceedingly anxious for him, as he was in very 
feeble health, as well as myself. One Sabbath I 
was walking the room, praying earnestly that he 
might know the joys of salvation, and that, if 
I were taken from him, the Lord would raise 
up some sympathizing friend in my stead, when 
these words came to me: 'He is mine, and I 
will take care of him. 7 They were so impressive 
that I called him into the room, expecting that 



20 



HIS SICKNESS. 



his peace was made with God ; for I believed 
those words were from the Lord. I found on in- 
quiry that he had no evidence. I questioned him 
closely whether there had not been a time when 
there was a change in his mind, when his burden 
was removed, and he was blessed. He said there 
was, when engaged in prayer in the grove. He 
felt to rejoice, but did not know it was religion, 
and consequently said nothing about it. I told 
him that I believed that God had blessed him, 
and that if he had spoken of it his joy might have 
continued. 

" While conversing, his countenance was lit up, 
and he was blessed indeed ; and we prayed and 
praised God together ; and I know not that he 
ever had a doubt after that but his soul was con- 
verted to God. At that time our religious priv- 
ileges were limited, and Zenas had no young- 
associate who was pious. I thought it advisable 
to hold meetings with my children, when oppor- 
tunity offered, conducted as class meetings. I 
think they were a benefit to him, as he was ready 
to sustain them ; also a stimulus to the others to 
act more in reference to their future well being ; 
and it was surely a blessing to me, for I could not 
otherwise feel that I was doing what I could for 
their salvation." 

At the age of sixteen he caught a violent cold, 
which settled on his lungs. His symptoms gave 
his parents much alarm, as he discharged abun- 



ANSWER TO PRAYER. 



21 



dantly from the lungs, and had profuse night 
sweats. His friends greatly feared it would result 
in quick consumption. His mother, especially, felt 
the importance of his being made every whit whole 
and prepared for joys immortal. He soon became 
deeply interested in the subject of full salvation. 
His zeal had abated, probably on account of his 
close application to study, and the irreligious in- 
fluences by which he was surrounded. After many 
strong cries and tears, God in mercy restored to 
him the joys of his salvation. He gave himself 
entirely to God in a new and lasting covenant, 
never to be broken, and never to be forgotten. 
His mother believed from this time that he would 
recover, and live to be useful in the church and 
in the world. 

At this time, also, his father engaged in fasting 
and prayer for him, and he seemed to have an 
answer as in an audible voice, " Thy prayer is 
heard." From that time his father felt confident 
of his recovery from this sickness, and that his 
son would yet live to be useful in the church of 
God ; though he did not know or feel fully settled 
that tin's usefulness would be in the work of the 
ministry. It is probable that in the consecration 
which Zenas was now enabled to make of himself, 
in surrendering himself entirely to the service of 
his divine Master, that the work of the ministry 
was before his mind ; for he immediately set about 
the matter of getting an education, and pursued 



22 



FAMILY RELIGION. 



his course for this object with a steady purpose 
from this period. 

The religious education of young Zenas depend- 
ed almost altogether on his father and mother. 
They were both deeply pious, and sought to train 
up their children in the ways of piety and religion. 
His mother, especially, was solicitous, and spared 
no labor to train up her children religiously. She 
could not rest while any one of them was out of 
the ark of safety. She taught them, she prayed 
with and for them, and closely pressed upon them 
their need of salvation. She held prayer meetings 
and class meetings with them, and sought to keep 
them from bad companions. She secured a bound- 
less influence over them.' They early conceived a 
great respect for her judgment and understanding, 
and loved her fervently, and always consulted 
their mother on such important subjects as inter- 
ested them — and particularly upon those points 
connected with theoretical or practical religion. 

The days of Sunday schools had not yet come 
in that distant and sparsely-settled part of the 
country. Religious meetings also, especially the 
public service of the Sabbath and the preached 
word, could be enjoyed on the Sabbath only a 
part of the time. This was supplied mostly by 
the persevering and devoted itinerant ministers 
of the Methodist Episcopal church. The house of 
Father Caldwell was their home, and the neigh- 
boring school house was the chapel for divine ser- 



INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS MEETINGS. 23 



vice. Under such circumstances family religion 
was felt to be both a privilege and a necessity ; 
and well was it improved in the Caldwell family. 

A large upper room was consecrated as a place 
of sacred convocation. Every Sabbath when there 
was no public religious service in the school house 
in the neighborhood, the little family circle, and 
sometimes a few of the neighbors, used to come to- 
gether, and read, and sing, and pray, and talk of 
the dealings of God with them. Thus this house, 
from its earliest history, was like the house of 
Obed Edom, where the ark of God rested. All 
were blessed that pertained to the household. 
Yery few, who have been members of this fam- 
ily for any considerable length of time, have gone 
away from it unconverted. 

The frequent religious gatherings at the house 
of this devout family aided greatly in keeping 
alive the flame of devotion among the children. 
A large chamber was kept fitted up with benches 
for meetings ; and even quarterly meetings, the 
great meetings of early Methodism, were some- 
times held at this house or in the adjoining grove ; 
and here the way-worn itinerant sounded out the 
gospel, and found a comfortable home when his 
labors were over. 

Many evil-disposed persons prophesied that the 
Caldwell family would be eaten out of house and 
home, so many of the people were in the habit of 
congregating there. But they had enough and 



24 



# 

PAKENTAL INFLUENCE. 



to spare, and have come down to old age fully 
satisfied that their " steps were ordered of God." 
God has not left the righteous to be forsaken, 
nor his seed to beg bread. By the blessing 
of God, especially on the mother's faithfulness 
in reasoning with her children, and showing them 
the evil of their going with the multitude, they 
were kept from bad associations and practices, 
and were trained to habits of industry and devo- 
tion from early life. The children were always 
mild and yielding to their parents. A beautiful 
illustration of this fact is remembered in the fol- 
lowing instance : A husking was held in the 
neighborhood, and Zenas and the other young 
people were pleased with the idea of going ; but 
his mother said she was fearful of the conse- 
quences. Young Zenas, on hearing his mother ex- 
press her fears, in a very noble and manly way 
said, " Mother, I will not go if you do not think it 
best," and quietly staid at home. 

Thus did the influence of his excellent and 
faithful mother, like a protecting angel, go with' 
him in every place. He never was out of the 
circle of her influence. Her constant prayers, 
and loving, faithful admonitions were ever present 
with him. She loved her children, and because 
she loved them with a true and rational affection, 
she faithfully persisted in keeping them from im- 
proper associates, and in urging upon them the 
duty of serving God and doing good in their day 



PARENTAL INFLUENCE. 



25 



and generation. " The eternal salvation of my chil- 
dren, 7 ' said she once to me, " outweighed every thing 
else" And according to her faith it was done 
unto her. She had the satisfaction of seeing her 
children and all her grandchildren early convert- 
ed to God. 

3 



CHAPTER III. 



Zenas resolves on an Education. — Commences trie Study 
of Latin. — Pecuniary Difficulties. — How removed. 
— Teaches a Public School. — Letter to a Friend. 
— Teaches another Public School, in Waterford. — 
Goes to Monmouth Academy. — " Desire of Emi- 
nence." — Virtue alone is Happiness below. — Teaches 
a School in Hebron. 

After young Zenas recovered from his long and 
severe sickness referred to in the previous chapter, 
his religious character continued greatly to im- 
prove. He began to settle his plans for life. He 
began to feel that God was calling him to work 
in his vineyard. God had raised him up from a 
bed of sickness, and had given to him talents and 
a burning love for souls, and he heard the voice 
of God, like the sound of a trumpet, "Son, go 
work in my vineyard.'-' In order to be a success- 
ful laborer, he saw the necessity of a good educa- 
tion, and immediately commenced to use the means 
for its attainment. 

Our heavenly Father never commands us to 
do any thing impossible. If it be beyond our 
natural strength, he will in some way afford the 

(26) 



PECUNIARY DIFFICULTIES. 



27 



needful means and facilities for accomplishing the 
work to which we are called. In the providence 
of God Mr. E. L. Hamlin, now Hon. E. L. Ham- 
lin, of Bangor, Maine, was engaged as a teacher 
in the public school of Mr. Caldwell's district. 
He appears to have been deeply interested in the 
progress of his school. He was not only a good 
teacher, but a good classical scholar. This gen- 
tleman boarded in the Caldwell family, and under 
him young Zenas was well initiated in the study 
of Latin. Mr. Hamlin graduated at Brown Uni- 
versity, in 1819. It should be said further, that 
young Zenas was first instructed in his classical 
studies by a gentleman in Hebron, who resided in 
the neighborhood of his father, by the name of 
Keith, now of Craig's Mills, Maine. These gen- 
tlemen have the credit of having given the start 
in classical learning to the ardent mind of this 
young man ; and, though more than thirty years 
have elapsed, they richly merit the gratitude of 
the numerous friends and admirers of the Cald- 
well brothers for their kind services to them. 

But the occasional aid of individuals could not 
be relied on for any great length of time ; and, 
from the nature of the case, when these persons 
had other business, it must also be much inter- 
rupted. Young Zenas, therefore, began to look 
around for some school where he could gain the 
instruction needful for preparation for college. 
But a new difficulty now presented itself. How 



28 



HOW REMOVED. 



could lie go away from home without expense ? 
Tuition and board bills could not be avoided. 
As for clothing, this could be principally supplied 
by the kindness and industry of his parents ; but 
more than this could not be spared from the fru- 
gal means of the family. 

Now, let us see how hundreds of young men in 
New England have begun to carve out their for- 
tune and their fame. Young Zenas, now seventeen 
years of age, goes and makes application to the 
school committee of the town for a certificate 
to teach in a public school. He is successful. 
He engages in his school for three months in the 
winter for about fifteen dollars per month. With 
this scanty means, and perhaps working a month 
or more in midsummer in gathering hay, he gets 
enough to pay his way, with the most rigid econo- 
my, the remainder of the year in pursuing his 
studies. 

Thus did Zenas Caldwell, and thus also did his 
brother Merritt, whose history we shall soon 
trace in another volume. Inspired with noble 
sentiments, they did not expect to be useful in 
the highest degree to their fellow-men without 
the best opportunities for education — a liberal 
education. This was what they needed, and, by 
the blessing of God, were determined to have. 
Nothing can withstand a well-directed energy. 
It gradually removes mountains of difiiculties, and 
" laughs at impossibilities." 



TEACHES A PUBLIC SCHOOL. 



29 



Let not the young man be discouraged who 
is sighing in secret for want of means to pur- 
sue his studies. He may have an education 
if he will; and the best means for education 
that America or the world affords. Money, of 
course, he must have ; and if he has it not from 
his friends, he can make it by a proper econ- 
omy and energy. A college education is of 
the highest importance for a useful and success- 
ful career in the ministry, or in teaching, or in 
either of the learned professions. It is impor- 
tant, Jndeed, for the merchant, the artisan, and 
the. farmer, but necessary for the highest useful- 
ness in either of the learned professions. Let no 
young man give it up unless his way is utterly 
hedged up by the providence of God. 

Zenas Caldwell always labored under feeble 
health, as well as under pecuniary discourage- 
ments ; but his noble soul was bent on conquer- 
ing them all. He accordingly took a winter 
school in the town of Hebron, Maine, as near as 
can be ascertained, in the fall of 1818. Here 
enough was earned to enable him to go to the 
Hebron Academy in the following summer of 
1819. How far he progressed in his studies, or 
with what success, we have not the means of 
knowing. But, as to his religious state, and his 
feelings and views as a Methodist, we may learn 
something from the following interesting letter to 
a friend : — 

3 * 



30 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 



Hebron, October 13, 1819. 

My respected Friend : The thought of my 
youth and inability has formerly almost discour- 
aged me from writing to any one of my compan- 
ions, but now, more to one of my superiors. I 
think, however, a desire for your welfare and that 
of others prompts me to write ; and I wish to be 
free from party prejudice, &c. 

For about six years I have lived in the belief 
that God has forgiven my sins ; during which time 
I have been endeavoring by Scripture and reason 
to find out what doctrines and principles were the 
most congenial with the word and will of God, 
and by study and observation to ascertain what 
people were most devoted in his service. Some 
more than two years ago, I felt it my duty to join 
myself to the people called Methodists ; since 
which I have been at a variety of their meetings, 
from their yearly conferences down to their prayer 
meetings. I have also frequented the meetings of 
other denominations ; and I can safely say I never 
envied them their privileges ; for when I have re- 
viewed what I have seen, heard, and realized 
among the Methodists, I have been convinced 
that, for the piety and zeal of their ministry, and 
the uniform examples of their members, with the 
truth of the doctrines inculcated among them, 
they were the most calculated to convince the un- 
believing, and to stop the mouths of gainsayers, of 
any people with whom I have been acquainted. 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 



31 



I saw you at Norway, at our quarterly meeting, 
heard you speak of your exercises and enjoyment ; 
from which I supposed that you felt a union with 
us, although there generally has been a separat- 
ing line drawn between the denominations. I 
have formerly heard of your relation of your 
experience and youth ; that for want of infor- 
mation and exertion you for some time " sat 
down by the rivers of Babylon ; " and since you 
came into the enjoyment of the power of religion 
that you have been somewhat dissatisfied with the 
church to which you belong. If so, you have a 
weighty subject to think upon. The doctrines of 
the gospel are all-important. The Scriptures are 
full and explicit on this subject. The point lies 
here. If you believe with the Calvinists that 
God has, according to the counsel of his will, by 
an irrevocable decree doomed the greater part of 
mankind to eternal misery ; also, that if you have 
ever experienced the grace of God you are uncon- 
ditionally an heir of heaven, without regard to 
your future character ; and as I once heard Rev. 
Mr. H. say in Paris, " A Christian must live in 
sin and guilt as long as he lives at all" — I say, if 
this be your principle, it will not be wondered 

at if you remain with the C ts while you 

retain it. But if, on the other hand, you be- 
lieve with the inspired writers that Jesus Christ 
tasted death for every man, and that God is not 
willing that any should perish, but that all should 



32 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 



come to repentance ; that some have made ship- 
wreck of their faith, and that God has no pleas- 
ure in them who draw back ; if you believe the 
will of God is even our sanctification, and that 
those whom the apostle addressed as holy brethren 
were such, you will perceive, by consulting reason, 
that you are not at home. 

It is allowed that the belief and experience of 
the power of religion are not general among 

the C ts. If so, a connection with them 

is prejudicial to our happiness. You have been 
with us, and have in part become acquainted with 
our privileges ; and, if you should join with us, 
you might be an instrument of leading many 
from error to truth, and from darkness to light. 
I believe those doctrines which proceed from God 
will lead to him. It is very common in these 
days to hear the unbeliever say, " I can do noth- 
ing. If I am to be saved, I shall be." I often 
hear formal professors say, " I cannot give up my 
hope that I have experienced something. I ex- 
pect to live in sin, and to have doubts and fears 
in this world." Does this lead to God? We 
think not. But when the sinner becomes con- 
vinced of his duty and responsibility to God, and 
the Christian of his privilege to rejoice evermore, 
pray without ceasing, &c, the effect is always 
salutary. I begin to perceive a rise in Zion. I 
hope the church is coming up from the wilderness, 
and I believe the salvation of Israel must come 



TEACHES ANOTHER PUBLIC SCHOOL. 33 



out of Zion. I anticipate the day when the truth 
shall be universally established, error abolished, 
and the name of God and his doctrine will be- 
come a praise in the earth. * * * 
Yours, &c, 

Zenas Caldwell. 

P. S. Should the Calvinistic principles I have 
mentioned be denied, I would refer you to the In- 
stitutes of John Calvin, whom they acknowledge 
as the father of their system of belief, or to a 
sketch of his life by Rev. Martin Ruter. 

In the winter of 1819-20, Mr. Caldwell again 
taught a district school, in the town of Waterford, 
Maine. He boarded with the family of an excel- 
lent Methodist, the father of Rev. Aaron San- 
derson, of the Maine conference. Here he en- 
joyed himself much, reading the Greek Testament 
during his leisure hours, and attending such re- 
ligious meetings as were within his reach. After 
his school had ended, we find him wending his 
way to the Monmouth Academy, about twenty-five 
miles east of Hebron. After arriving there, he 
wrote the following letter to his parents and 
friends. The date is not given. 

Friday Evening. 

After a pleasant ride, I arrived at Monmouth ; 
called at Father Fogg's, and being invited, stopped 
over night upon uncertainties. Saturday morning 



A QUARTERLY MEETING. 



they concluded to keep me. I took rny cham- 
ber with every convenience I could wish for, and 
found an excellent family with good regulations. 
Saturday afternoon quarterly meeting commenced. 

Elder preached tolerably, nothing special. 

The evening prayer meeting was powerful, and 
pretty noisy. The Daughters of Thunder were not 
uncommon. There was a cry for holiness and 
reformation. * * * I was rather silent, bat 
felt tolerably well. It was called a good meet- 
ing. On Sunday morning there was a love feast, 
also a powerful time, and well occupied. At the 
public meeting Elder Hunger preached well in 
the forenoon, and Elder H. in the afternoon. I 
judged that two thousand people were collected. 
About one hundred communed. * * * Doc- 
tors, esquires, captains, and all kinds of Meth- 
odists were here. We have a good society, and 
class meeting every week. I give eight shillings 
per week for board, and think I shall not grudge it. 
* * * If I can make any pre-calculation about 
going home, I shall send you word ; if not, I shall 
shoulder my pack and go through on foot. The 
scholars are confined in school during school 
hours. * * * I feel contented, and mean to 
do right. * * * I find it a good thing to have 
friends. Expect Mr. Thomas (the preceptor) along 
soon. Adieu. Zen as Caldwell. 



P. S. I open my letter to inform you that my 



DESIRE OF EMINENCE. 



35 



chum has arrived, who appears to be an irreligious 
young man, but agreeable, &c. * * * He is 
twenty-five years old, cut off from earthly pros- 
pects from want of health. He is quite serious, and 
in his sentiments pretty regular. I don't know but 
I shall write all that happens that is new till Mr. T. 
comes along. I think I shall get settled down to 
my studies soon. I like my situation better and 
better, and prefer it to any other. * * * 

Last evening I took a walk out with Jerry, the 
youngest son of the family ; and I think him to be 
a pious little fellow, and believe he will prove 
a second Amos to me while I stay here. 

A few of Mr. Caldwell's compositions, written 
at this period, have been preserved. We present 
the following observations on the " desire of emi- 
nence," not so much as a specimen of his compo- 
sition as of the manly sense which they betray. 

"There appears to be a principle implanted 
in the human heart which thirsts for eminence. 
Many paths are pursued in which this object is 
sought ; but it never will be obtained in the way 
it is usually pursued. * * # 

" Some, supposing that wealth will give renown 
and lead to honor, fill their coffers with gold, and 
heap up riches in abundance, and perhaps would 
not, with the good Samaritan, impart two pence 
to save the life of a sufferer. Let such honor be 
despised. 

* Reference is here made to a pious young man of his acquaintance. 



3G 



VIRTUE IS HAPPINESS. 



" Others, apparently unconscious of the sacred 
nature of the gospel, will take their station in the 
sacred desk, and there endeavor splendidly to 
display the terrors of the law and the beauties of 
the gospel without any experimental knowledge 
of it. But their honor is like the summer morn- 
ing breeze, which in the calm midday is neither 
felt nor heard. On the other hand, some men, by 
lives of real rectitude and usefulness, arise to emi- 
nence ; and this is eminence indeed ; for no great- 
ness is worth possessing but that which is accom- 
panied by real goodness. 

" We should therefore endeavor, not so much to 
appear great in the eyes of men, as good in the 
sight of our Maker." 

We beg leave to present another brief compo- 
sition, written at this period, as an example both 
of good sense and of direct and felicitous ex- 
pression, and also of correct sentiment. 

" 4 Know, then, this truth, enough for man to know — 
Virtue alone is happiness below.' — Pope. 

Yirtue is indeed the foundation of all human 
happiness ; and nothing opposed to it can afford 
real felicity to the mind of man. 

" In the mind destitute of virtue there is a void 
which neither wealth, nor honor, nor any external 
circumstance can ever fill. The warrior, without 
virtue, may leave the pleasing scenes of domestic 



VIRTUE IS HAPPINESS. 



37 



life, and encounter the dangers of war to over- 
whelm cities in blood, and drive peaceful colonies 
from their habitations ; but these scenes of blood 
will afterwards, like so many ghosts, haunt his 
guilty conscience and deprive him of happiness. 

" The mind of the vicious man possessing wealth 
is always in a state of perturbation and anxiety 
lest some unfortunate accident should diminish 
his treasure and empty his coffers. There are 
some men who are endeavoring to obtain honor 
and renown in the path of vice ; but they are so 
far from being happy, that, for a trifling insult, 
they will endanger their lives to gratify their re- 
venge ; and they often close their present state of 
existence with a stain on their memories, and 
their honor and their prospects perish together. 
It is not so with the good man. He, by a con- 
stant walk in the path of virtue, becomes inured 
to the common ills of life, and meets all the dis- 
pensations of Providence, whether prosperous or 
calamitous, with equal resignation. 

" The passions of his mind are harmonized and 
regulated, and he is rendered a benefit and an 
ornament to society. Broils and contentions, the 
offspring of vice and depravity, are seldom found 
in the society of the virtuous. If he be in office, 
he magnifies his office. If riches, honor, and 
emoluments attend him, he improves them to the 
advantage of himself and his fellow-men. In fine, 
4 



38 



LABORS IN TEACHING. 



he who keeps a conscience void of offence towards 
God and towards men is alone happy." 

During the year 1820, young Caldwell pursued 
his studies with great diligence and success. As 
he had always done previously, he came home 
from his school and assisted his father during the 
haying season, returned to Monmouth Academy in 
the autumn, and in the winter again engaged 
in teaching a district school — as near as I can 
ascertain — in Hebron, his native town. This I 
infer from a note to Eev. A. Sanderson, dated 
Hebron, January 10, — year not mentioned, — in 
which he says in his closing sentence, "I must 
close, and run to school." This brief note of a 
single page indicates how steadily he labored to 
keep the fire of religion burning in his heart. 
He says, " I have enjoyed some religion since [I 
saw you], I have sung, — 

' When the dreams of life are fled,' &c, — 

with some pleasure. I went to hear brother 
Jaques preach last night and Thursday night. 
Last night had a good meeting. Quarterly meet- 
ing three weeks from to-day," &c. He closes up 
by saying, " My hand is cold ; my ink freezes in 
my pen. I must close, and run to school. Pray 
for me. 



CHAPTER IV. 



Life in College. — His Diary. — Religious State. — 
The Theological Society. — Essay on " Whether 
Volition be free, and not determined by Motives." 
— Inclined to Metaphysics and Poetry. — " Does 
Personal Identity consist in Consciousness ? v — 
Latin Oration on the Eloquence of the Romans. 

In the autumn of 1821, Mr. Caldwell was ad- 
mitted to the Sophomore class in Bowdoin Col- 
lege. This was a new position, and one of great 
interest to him, both as a young man thirsting for 
knowledge, and as a Methodist ambitious to be 
useful. He was probably the first young man 
of the Methodist Episcopal church who entered 
college and graduated with the design of enter- 
ing the ministry of that church, and of devoting 
his life to its service. Other men, graduates of 
English and American colleges, had been raised 
up in the providence of God to preach the gospel 
among the Methodists ; but it does not appear 
that they educated themselves specifically for this 
work. Young Caldwell, as he pursued his stud- 
ies, doubtless felt that he was the beginning of a 
great company who should follow after him out 

(39) 



40 



HIS DIARY. 



of the bosom of the growing communion of which 
he was a member. 

He was now twenty-one years of age. He had 
struggled against ill health and other embarrass- 
ments to attain this position. He was profoundly 
pious. His views of Scripture doctrines were 
clear and well settled ; and, as a Christian, his 
convictions were strongly in favor of the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church. 

A brief diarium has been found, which presents 
his feelings at this period in his own language. 
It is as follows : — 

" Brunswick, October 2, 1821. An eventful pe- 
riod of my life. This day I have taken up my 
abode in Bowdoin College, room No. 17. 

" October 3. This morning my father has left 
me, amidst a little world of confusion, surrounded 
with the vicious ; and as yet I know of no 
friends. 

" Sunday, October 7. A week of confusion ; feel 
some peace in believing, though but little joy in 
the Holy Ghost. Have formed some religious ac- 
quaintance. Heard President Allen preach well. 
This evening heard a zealous Calvinist Baptist 
preacher. My situation is tolerable ; government 
good ; studies pleasant. Feel content, because I 
think I am where God would have me be. 

" Tuesday, October 9. Muster day. Vice and 
vanity prevail. 



DIARY CONTINUED. 



41 



" Saturday, October 13. This morning attend- 
ed a conference among the students. After two 
hymns, two prayers, and a sermon read, thought 
the meeting would close. But two youths arose 
successively, and exhorted, (I believe in the spirit 
of religion.) A tear of joy started. Methinks I 
am not alone. 

" Sunday, 14. This morning was invited to join 
the Praying Society. I went in, and, to my sur- 
prise, found them nearly all upon their knees. I 
joyfully fell on my knees, and believe praised God 
heartily. 

" But, for the most part, I feel rather lonely. I 
see and hear no Methodists. I sometimes look 
forward with satisfaction, and say, — 

4 When time shall be no more, 

And elements decay, 
On Canaan's happy shore 
I'll shout in endless day.' 

" Wednesday, 17. This evening, after answer- 
ing several hard Calvinistic questions as I pleased, 
was admitted a member of the Praying Society. 
Had a tolerable meeting. 

" Saturday evening, 20. Had a very strict con- 
ference by Tutors Hale and Chase. 

" Sunday, 21. Morning, had a pretty good 
prayer meeting. They asked me to pray. I re- 
fused, and am sorry. This evening heard Elder 
4* 



42 



DIARY CONTINUED. 



Lamb, a Freewill Baptist. Have enjoyed myself 
better this week. Find good religious compan- 
ions, who appear to regard me as a Christian. I 
believe some love exists among us. In fine, my 
religious privileges are far greater than I expected. 
I think this has been the best day to me that I 
have passed in Brunswick. I hope my joys are 
increasing. 

" Note. Praying Society meets each Wednes- 
day evening and Sunday morning ; conference 
every Saturday evening. 

" Sunday evening, October 28. Have had some 
enjoyment this last week, and some good meet- 
ings. This evening went to the school house, 
and was surprised by the voice of a Methodist 
preacher, Brother Cox, a young man from Hal- 
lowell." * 

He early became a member of the Theological 
Society of the college, and took great interest in 
its discussions, and in his senior year was made its 
president. His decided ability in the discussion 
of theological questions, and his ardent piety, 

* This was probably Rev. Melville B. Cox, between whom and 
Mr. Caldwell a sincere attachment afterwards arose, and a pleasant 
correspondence was carried on. This excellent young man had just 
then commenced to preach. He was first stationed at Kennebunk, 
in 1822 ; and afterwards became the first Methodist Episcopal mis- 
sionary to Africa. He lived only a short time after arriving at his 
field of labor, and died in triumph, exclaiming, " Though a thousand 
fall, let not Africa be given up." 



IS VOLITION FREE? 



43 



at once won the respect and esteem of all his 
associates. 

The following Essay on the question, Whether 
volition be free and not determined by motives, 
was probably written soon after he became a mem- 
ber of college, and it clearly shows an ability to 
grapple with difficult metaphysical questions, and 
a range of reading and research extraordinary for 
so young a man, and leads us to wonder why God 
did not spare him longer to the church and to the 
world. 

WHETHER VOLITION BE FREE, AND NOT DETER- 
MINED BY MOTIVES. 

Two kinds of principles may be supposed to 
exist in man — animal and rational. They are 
both principles of action, and susceptible of the 
influence of motives. The former of these is 
possessed by the rational and brute creation in 
common. Mere animals evidently have will, and 
their volition is produced by a cause adequate 
to the effect ; but they have neither reason nor 
judgment by which they can weigh motives. 
Hence, with them, the greatest motives, or those 
which most affect their sense, exercise absolute 
dominion over their will. Men cannot properly 
be said to act without volition ; for involuntary 
operations are merely mechanical. Yet motives 
so powerful and forcible are sometimes presented 



44 



IS VOLITION FEES ? 



as to counteract the dictates of reason, and pro- 
duce immediate action. In both these instances 
motives absolutely determine the volition. But 
this question should probably be confined to men 
in the free use of their rational powers, and to 
those actions deemed virtuous and vicious. And 
here we shall find that volition is determined by 
motives. Determinations are either moral or 
physical. Moral determinations (which alone 
concern us) are those proceeding from causes 
which operate morally ; that is, by commanding, 
persuading, or advising. Hence whatever influ- 
ences the will in the election or rejection of any 
motive presented, determines the volition. Mr. 
Locke supposes that motives are presented to man, 
and he has the power of contemplating them, and 
suspending his decisions till he has accurately in- 
vestigated them. Now, since reason is the dis- 
tinguishing and most noble power of man, and 
the first law of nature is that we obey its dictates, 
every decision and action contrary to reason is a 
crime. When a man rationally believes a motive 
presented to be a good of which he is not in pos- 
session, he desires it. This desire produces un- 
easiness, which influences the will, and determines 
him to exertion for the possession of the absent 
good. In this sense motives influence or deter- 
mine volition. 

Father Malebranche seems to suppose that will 
is the impression which carries us towards good 



FREEDOM OF THE WILL. 



45 



in general, and, consequently, that volition is nat- 
urally determined by good motives ; and the de- 
termination of the mind in favor of evil is an abuse 
of the power of volition. Others do not at all 
ascribe the determination of volition to motives. 
According to Dr. Reid, " Man, as a moral agent, 
has power over the determinations of his own will. 
The determination of the will is an effect pro- 
duced by some cause ; and that cause is as easily 
conceived to be the person himself as any other 
being." " Motives may be compared to advice, 
concerning the influence of which we may agree 
with probability, but not with certainty. 77 "To 
ascribe necessary and physical efficiency to mo- 
tives is like saying an abstract notion can strike 
a ball. 77 We may yet suppose at least that man 
governs himself by motives, and that motives ulti- 
mately effect a moral determination of the will. 
The terms " free will 77 anS. free " volition 77 are treat- 
ed by some as sounds without sense. Free volition, 
opposed to volition morally determined by mo- 
tives, is absurd ; since, besides the reasons former- 
ly given, it would' destroy the distinction between 
vice and virtue, and involve men in universal an- 
archy. To'say that man is not free in his volition 
is to oppose common sense. Let it be granted 
that motives are presented by a supreme agency, 
that they have their application immediately to 
the will, and, by physically determining the vo- 
lition, compel the man to action, then men are, as 



46 



FREEDOM OF THE WILL. 



one author says, " subjected to the laws of matter. 
The action is proportional to the force impressed, 
and in the direction of that force." The necessi- 
ty of the action appears thus : The action neces- 
sarily follows the choice, the choice necessarily 
follows the motive, and the motive necessarily fol- 
lows its author. But it is argued that man is free 
to do what he wills to do. I grant that man is 
free to follow his choice, and the choice is free to 
follow the motive, and the motive is free to follow 
its author. Thus freedom and necessity unite in 
one object. The same freedom and necessity unite 
in the wheels of a machine, each of which freely 
and necessarily follows the one that turns it. 

It seems to me a violation of the principles of 
philosophy to say that motives have their applica- 
tion immediately to the will. Perception — em- 
bracing, for convenience, the logical terms percep- 
tion and consciousness — is the power through 
which the mind receives its first ideas of all things 
external and internal, natural and moral ; and 
this is the power to which motives are presented ; 
for the presentation and primary influence of 
motives are independent of man's agency. There- 
fore, if motives are presented to the will, they 
exert an irresistible influence over it. Hence the 
motive becomes the agent, and the will the object ; 
for the will cannot at the same time influence the 
motive, unless two beings at the same time en- 
gaged in the same action can be reciprocally the 



FREEDOM OF THE WILL. 



47 



agentTtnd the object, which is impossible. Let it 
be granted that motives have their application to 
the power of perception ; the man may then exert 
his power of volition in choosing or refusing the 
object, according as the mind is favorably or un- 
favorably affected by it through the medium of 
perception. Then, since man is not ruled by any 
one of the powers of his mind, nor, indeed, by any 
other agent in his moral conduct, we perceive 
that motives may ultimately determine his vo- 
lition, and yet he may govern himself by motives, 
and be a free moral agent. I use the term " free 
moral agent " as distinct from " free agent " mere- 
ly, the former of which relates only to works of 
merit and demerit, whereas the latter is strictly 
applicable only to the Deity ; for man is circum- 
scribed in the sphere of his action, and is not al- 
ways free to do that which he wishes to do. 
These remarks seem to me to be congenial with 
the nature of man, and consistent with a future 
retribution. But total indifference and necessary 
physical determinations applied to the volition of 
man, each lead us alike into inextricable mazes, 
where virtue is extinct and vice is but a name. 

The character of a young man in college is a 
very certain index of what it will be in after life. 
If he is religious there, it is quite certain that 
he will be after he leaves the halls of learning. 
If his mind there takes a liking for metaphysical, 



48 



COLLEGE REMAINS. 



classical, or scientific studies, he will be likely to 
cultivate these studies more particularly in after 
life. The college remains of Mr. Caldwell indi- 
cate a mind highly religious and strongly inclined 
to poetical and metaphysical composition. It is 
to be regretted that but a part of his college ex- 
ercises have been preserved. It is believed that 
the compositions put into the hands of the pro- 
fessor never came back into the writer's hands. 
Hence there are found among his papers only a few 
specimens of his writing after he entered college, 
except some first copies and some of his society 
exercises. But there is enough to show the bent 
of his mind and the determined vigor with which 
he prosecuted his studies. The following are 
some of the subjects on which he wrote : The 
value of the Scriptures ; A sound imagination ; 
Whether any actions become voluntary through 
habit ; Whether the obligation of moral rules 
results from their utility ; Does personal identity 
consist in consciousness ? These topics are treated 
with marked ability and clearness. As an example 
of Mr. Caldwell's ability, and for the sake of 
throwing light on an important subject, we pre- 
sent the reader the essay on the last question named 
above. 



PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



49 



DOES PERSONAL IDENTITY CONSIST IN CONSCIOUS- 
NESS ? 

Personal identity is perfect identity. We 
may then premise that perfect identity is that 
alone with which we are concerned. Identity of 
substances, of animals, and of men, is distinct from 
personal identity, and independent of it. Identity 
of bodies is merely nominal, and is used for the 
convenience of speech. That of animals and men 
is the same continued life communicated to differ- 
ent particles of matter. 

The thoughts, actions, and affections of men are 
momentary and transient, and have but a very 
imperfect identity ; and as the body is likewise 
composed of fleeting particles, we may suppose a 
being to exist in human form who is animated by 
the same continued life, and supplied with organs 
of sense, through which new ideas are successive- 
ly flowing to his mind ; yet, if he be denied the 
power of reasoning, connecting his ideas, and de- 
ducing consequences from premises, he has no per- 
sonal identity. 

" Person stands for an intelligent being that 
reasons and reflects, and can consider itself the 
same thing in different times and places, which it 
doth by that consciousness that is inseparable 
from thinking." " Consciousness is the mind's 
perception of its own existence, faculties, and 
5 



50 



PERSONAL IDENTITY. 



operations." Hence " identity of consciousness 
constitutes identity of person." 

A man may be to-day in the exercise of the strong- 
est powers of mind ; he may be a strenuous advo- 
cate for virtue, a man of the soundest principles 
and best morals ; yet if he should to-morrow expe- 
rience entire mental derangement, he would lose 
his personality, since he would lose the power 
of reasoning, reflection, and consideration. If he 
commit crimes of the greatest turpitude in them- 
selves, he can never be answerable for them, nor 
be subjected to punishment on the principles of 
reason ; and on the supposition that he remained 
in this situation, perpetually unconscious of the 
events of the former part of his life, retribution 
for his former deeds would be no more just than 
for those of any other person. This fact is ex- 
emplified also by persons, who frequently in sleep, 
walk and act unconsciously. Bishop Butler, al- 
though opposed to the system of Locke, acknowl- 
edges that " present consciousness of what we at 
present do and feel, is necessary to our being the 
persons we now are ; " that is, to our being per- 
sons. This being granted, (and it is probably 
disputed by none,) personal identity does consist 
in consciousness. Hence it would seem that con- 
sciousness of past actions is necessary to being 
the same person who committed them ; otherwise 
a madman is responsible for his former conduct ; 
that is, a being that is no person is accountable 



TEACHES A PUBLIC SCHOOL. 



51 



for the deeds of a person. This is as unreason- 
able as that a beast should be answerable for the 
conduct of a man. Hence it appears that if a man 
was really insane, and was known to be such, he 
ought not to be subjected to punishment by a legal 
process for any deed which he should perpetrate. 
If he be again restored to the use of his reason, 
•and be conscious of his former conduct, his per- 
sonal identity is restored, and with it his responsi- 
bleness. We may suppose that all men at the 
final retribution will be conscious of the deeds of 
their whole lives, and be thus qualified to receive 
a sentence according to all their works. 

We are not to understand the essay as de- 
claring that an insane man would not be account- 
able for his conduct or acts done previous to his 
insanity, but that he would not be responsible for 
such acts while in an insane state. When he is 
restored to sanity, his personal identity is also 
restored, and he again becomes responsible — a 
principle which is sound in theory, and practised 
upon in the most enlightened courts of justice. 

In the following winter of 1821-2, Mr. Cald- 
well again entered into the business of teaching 
a public school. It would have been well if his 
winters could have been spent in some business 
more congenial to health than a heated and stifled 
school room, with the labor of taking charge of 
from forty to seventy scholars. But this business 



52 



ELOQUENCE OF THE ROMANS. 



was agreeable to him, as it enabled him to be use- 
ful ; and further, it was necessary, as this was the 
only way in which he could raise the funds need- 
ful to carry on his college studies, and to pay his 
way. He struggled along through the winter, 
and returned to college again in the spring, and 
joyfully entered upon those studies and duties 
which had already captivated his heart. 

From the first Mr. Caldwell won the respect of 
his college associates, both as a man and as a 
scholar, and especially as a young man of piety 
and discretion. From what we can learn from 
his papers and from his associates yet living, he 
excelled as a classical scholar. In the fall of the 
year 1824 he pronounced the salutatory oration 
in Latin, on the " Eloquence of the Romans.'-' 
The reader will be pleased with the following, 
which is a translation from the Latin of a part of 
this speech : — 

" Liberty, the nurse of true genius, dwelt among 
the Romans. Hence public speaking became a 
powerful engine of government, and was employed 
with great success for obtaining distinction and 
power. But it was not till they availed themselves 
of the treasures of Eastern literature, and witnessed 
the power of Grecian oratory, that they studied 
refinement in public speaking. They then per- 
ceived the charms of eloquence, and became its 
assiduous cultivators. The highest honors of the 



ELOQUENCE OF THE ROMANS. 



53 



state were presented to the orator as the reward 
of his exertions. This called into action the most 
brilliant talents of the Romans, and they soon ex- 
hibited to the world some of the best examples of 
human greatness. Foremost in the ranks of the 
eloquent we see Antoninus and Crassus. Anto- 
ninus was free from affectation and vain-glory. 
For his commanding eloquence, his unusual moder- 
ation, and uniform virtue, he was highly respected 
during his life, and deeply lamented at his death. 
Crassus, as an orator, was eminent for the accu- 
racy and elegance of his language. He possessed 
the rare talent of combining conciseness and orna- 
ment in his writings. Cassar holds a rank among 
the greatest orators of his age. His eloquence, 
united with his warlike accomplishments, gave him 
the title of the " world's great master." Cato, by 
his successful eloquence, obtained a high degree 
of public preferment. Hortensius, at an early age, 
preferring eloquence to martial honor, became an 
orator elegantly splendid in his diction, apt in his 
composition, and copious in his manner. As mas- 
ter of Roman eloquence, he long enjoyed the highest 
official honors of the republic. Reposing confi- 
dence in his superior talents, and his previously 
unparalleled acquisitions, he thought his reputa- 
tion established and his glory permanent ; till, 
unexpectedly, Cicero arose — a youth whose name 
became another name for eloquence itself. Cicero, 
by his unwearied application, soon eclipsed tho 
5* 



54 ELOQUENCE OF THE ROMANS. 

glory of Hortensius, and rose far above all com- 
petitors. While a youth, he was emulous of dis- 
tinction in oratory, and exerted all his powers 
to promote this object. He studied in the schools 
of Greece and Asia Minor, and applied for instruc- 
tion to the first orators of his age. He possessed 
a powerful voice, a commanding figure, graceful 
action, a brilliant imagination, a correct taste, 
a sound judgment, and a retentive memory. 
Uniting all these natural accomplishments under 
the dominion of an energetic mind, he acquired 
the power of speaking justly, methodically, ele- 
gantly, and copiously. He was honored with the 
consular dignity, and, by way of eminence, was 
called " Father of his country." He has submitted 
to posterity his orations and his precepts Be Ora- 
tore, which give evidence of more theoretical and 
practical knowledge of the genius of eloquence 
than any other man ever possessed. 

" Quintilian's Institutes of Oratory furnish the 
most perfect system of oratory now extant ; and 
his talents as a teacher of eloquence stand pre- 
eminent. Many other orators were in Rome, who 
would be the ornaments of any age ; and though 
Rome has long since shared the fate of all the 
early empires of the earth, yet she stood long 
enough to exhibit human greatness in her most 
majestic form, and has left examples of eloquence 
which future ages may imitate, but can never 
excel." 



mr. Caldwell's scholarship. 



55 



We have also found a very beautifully written 
Greek oration among his papers, giving evidence 
of his very decided success in the pursuits of clas- 
sical study. Where and on what occasion this 
oration was pronounced is uncertain ; but the 
decided scholarship displayed in it has greatly 
confirmed and increased our former high estimate 
of the man. 



CHAPTER V. 



Mr. CaldweWs College Class. — Professor Stowe and 
President Pierce Members of it. — Description of 
it by Mr. Hawthorne. — Pierce and Caldwell be- 
come Room mates. — Regard for each other. — 
Pierce takes a Public School, and boards in the Cald- 
well Family. — Caldwell teaches a Winter School 
in Paris. — Letters to Mr. Eliphalet Clark. — 
Caldwell and Pierce return to College. — Their 
senior Studies. — Caldwell President of the Theo- 
logical Society. — Pronounces its Anniversary Ad- 
dress. — His Graduation. — His religious Habits 
in College. 

Though the college class of which Mr. Cald- 
well was a member was not large, yet it contained 
in it some noble spirits, destined to be known to 
fame. Among them was Professor Calvin E. Stowe, 
now-professor at Andover, and Franklin Pierce, 
now president of the United States. Mr. Nathan- 
iel Hawthorne, the accomplished and graceful 
writer, himself a member of the class next below, 
thus describes it : — 

" Pierce's class was small, but composed of in- 
dividuals seriously intent on the duties and studies 

(56) 



me. Caldwell's college class. 57 

of their college life. They were not boys, but for 
the most part well advanced towards maturity, 
and, having wrought out their own means of edu- 
cation, were little inclined to neglect the oppor- 
tunities that had been won at so much cost. They 
knew the value of time, and had a sense of the 
responsibilities of their position. Their first schol- 
ar — the present Professor Stowe — has long since 
established his rank among the best scholars of 
the country. It could have been no easy task to 
hold successful rivalry with students so much in 
earnest as these were." 

■ Among the strong men of this class Mr. Caldwell 
held an honorable place. Stowe was acknowl- 
edged to be the first scholar ; Little was judged 
to have had the finest intellect ; Pierce was the 
most genial member of the band ; and Caldwell 
the most devoutly religious. A strong attach- 
ment grew up between Pierce and Caldwell. 
They loved each other as own brothers ; and this 
attachment continued without interruption to the 
very last. The last letter of Pierce was read by 
Caldwell only a few days before his death, breath- 
ing a most friendly feeling. 

Pierce was about three and a half years younger 
than Caldwell. It was at the age of seventeen 
that Pierce first met with him. Pierce was at this 
period small and slender in stature, full of vivacity 
and mirth, of fair complexion, with light and curly 
hair. Caldwell was full six feet high, with a noble 



58 CALDWELL AND PIERCE ROOM TOGETHER. 

head, rather awkward in his movements, sedate 
and dignified, yet cheerful and kindhearted, and 
was disposed to exercise a sort of paternal re- 
gard towards the younger members of college, and 
especially over the younger members of his class. 
Hawthorne, in his Life of Pierce, remarks that, 
" during the earlier part of his college course, it 
may be doubted whether Pierce was distinguished 
for scholarship ; " but the president, in a recent 
conversation with me, was more explicit ; he re- 
marked that " it was his chief concern at that time 
to see how little study he could get along with, 
and how many absences from college exercises and 
prayers he might get, and yet remain a member of 
the institution." 

While he was indulging in this manner of col- 
lege life, the vivacious Pierce was met one day by 
the grave and dignified Caldwell with a proposi- 
tion to take a room with him. After a moment 
of astonishment at such an offer, the proposition 
was heartily accepted by Pierce ; and from that 
hour these two noble spirits continued to flourish 
in each other's regards. The president now de- 
lights to acknowledge the fact, that from this time 
a new era commenced in his college life.- His col- 
lege exercises were regularly attended, and his 
lessons began to be thoroughly prepared ; and no 
one was more attentive to the college devotions 
than Franklin Pierce. About this time, in the 
autumn of 1822, Caldwell was appointed college 



REGARD FOR EACH OTHER. 



59 



monitor, whose duty it was to note all absences 
from prayers and from church. A few weeks be- 
fore the close of the fall term, it became necessary 
for Caldwell to leave college and enter upon his 
old avocation of teaching a public school during 
the winter, to earn money enough to pay his way. 
But before bidding his affectionate farewell to his 
friend and room mate, he put into his hand his 
monitor's bills, with the request that he would 
discharge the duties of this humble college office 
in his stead. The president recently remarked, 
with evident satisfaction, that he faithfully dis- 
charged the duties of this office according to 
Caldwell's request. 

May we not for a moment pause and inquire 
whether there is any connection between faithful- 
ness to the college monitor's trust and to that 
greatest of all political trusts, the presidency of 
these United States. For myself, I think we may 
clearly see how divine Providence was preparing 
Franklin Pierce, at this early day, for the solemn 
and weighty charge which the people of this great 
land have now committed to his hands. Here 
commenced his faithfulness, in connection with the 
prayers and tears of that sainted young man, whose 
history we are now tracing. And we are proud 
to say that his faithfulness continued both as a 
student in college, and as a student at law, and 
afterwards as an advocate. Where is the man to 
be found who has been more faithful and devoted 



60 



FRANKLIN PIERCE. 



to the interests of his clients as an advocate and 
counsellor ? and then as a member of the legisla- 
ture of his native state? and afterwards of the 
House of Representatives and of the Senate of the 
United States ? and finally, upon the battle fields 
of Mexico, who was more faithful to the interests 
of his country than Franklin Pierce ? 

The people of these United States have seen 
and admired this trait in his character, and have 
rejoiced to elevate him to the highest of civil 
offices, with a unanimity and enthusiasm scarcely 
second to that manifested in the election of the 
great Washington. This faithfulness, it should be 
remarked, began farther back : it was in the soul 
of Caldwell, and was nourished there by his 
deeply-religious spirit. And the chain may be 
traced, perhaps, still farther back, to the power- 
ful influences of pious parental example and pa- 
rental teaching which young Caldwell had re- 
ceived before he left his father's roof. What a 
motive and stimulus to exertion is presented here 
to pious parents, and to pious young men in 
college! Let them go and do likewise, and 
coming generations will rise up and call them 
blessed. 

The great interest of Mr. Caldwell in his new 
friend and college associate was beautifully dis- 
played the following year. When the season for 
engaging district schools had again come around, 
Caldwell proposed to Pierce to engage in teach- 



TEACHES A PUBLIC SCHOOL. 



61 



ing the district school in his father's neighborhood 
for the coming winter. This was the winter of 
1823-4, when they had advanced into their senior 
year. It was acknowledged that there was no 
special need of his laboring thus through the winter 
for the sake of funds ; but Caldwell pleaded that 
his friend needed that kind of discipline which 
the work of a district school would give him. 
Pierce consented. The school was duly engaged ; 
and we may imagine the future president of the 
United States, with his pack on his back, wending 
his way on foot, or with the rustic horse and wag- 
on of the Caldwell family, bounding over frozen 
and miserable roads fifty miles to Oxford, a town 
far back in the woods of Maine, to teach a few 
country children how to read and write. But this 
is the true road to usefulness and greatness, and 
not a few of our eminent men have trod it before 
Mr. Pierce. 

Pierce was received into the bosom of the Cald- 
well family with much delight. For the reason 
that he was a friend to Zenas, he was already be- 
loved. Zenas was a few miles away, teaching in 
an adjoining neighborhood, but often at home dur- 
ing the long winter evenings. We may imagine 
that the old family hearth blazed brightly as the 
young collegian entered that humble but cheerful 
home in the month of December, 1823. Besides 
Zenas, who, we may well suppose, was at home 
6 



62 BOARDS WITH THE CALDWELL FAMILY. 

that evening, were father and mother Caldwell, 
Merritt, Leonard, and Nancy. This composed the 
entire family circle. All were deeply pious. The 
house was a perpetual Bethel, where, morning and 
evening, the incense of prayer and praise ascended 
to God. The best room among the chambers was 
assigned to Franklin, and a spacious fireplace 
opened wide its arms to receive the cheerful 
blaze, that drove back the cold winds, which 
whistled and roared around the dwelling. At 
the corner of the road stood the humble school 
house, the people's college, a short distance from 
the Caldwell residence. Here, on the side of the 
hill, looking down the valley of the Androscog- 
gin to the south, and affording a good view of the 
White Hills of New Hampshire in the west, Frank- 
lin Pierce went to his daily task to teach the young 
people of this remote neighborhood the elements 
of an English education. Merritt, a younger 
brother of Zenas, was then preparing for college ; 
and Mr. Pierce kindly consented to lend him such 
aid as he needed, during the long winter evenings, 
in translating Sallust and Livy, and Xenophon and 
Herodotus. The winter passed most pleasantly 
and rapidly away in these useful studies and du- 
ties. It was a mild New England winter — 
the delightful memories of which will never fade 
from the minds of that happy circle. In a letter 
to Zenas, dated December 13, 1826, to which we 



LETTER TO E. CLARK. 



63 



have already referred as having been received 
only a few days before his death, Mr. Pierce re- 
marks, " I often turn back to the winter I passed 
in your father's family, and never without pleas- 
ure. It was, upon the whole, (which, considering 
my employment, [school keeping,] may appear 
rather strange,) one of the happiest seasons of my 
life. There was a novelty in my situation, and a 
generous frankness in the manner I was enter- 
tained, that tended much to increase my happi- 
ness. You must remember me to your parents, to 
your brothers, and to your sister." 

In the following letter to his friend, Mr. E. 
Clark, now E. Clark, M. D., of Portland, Maine, 
he mentions his " pleasant chum ; 77 but we intro- 
duce the letter here as it was written about this 
period, and as it is a beautiful illustration of his 
devotional feelings. 

Maine Hall, Bowdoix College, November 16, 1823. 

I dismiss other thoughts and employments to 
spend a few moments, this morning, in thinking of 
and writing to my dear brother Clark. I have 
received both your kind letters, and read them 
with much pleasure. I rejoice in the prosperity 
of Israel. I was glad to hear from Pittstown 
camp meeting, that souls were converted, but 
more that saints were sanctified, and especially 
that my brother Eliphalet shared so largely in the 
great salvation. A week ago yesterday, Griffin, 



64 



LETTER TO E. CLARK. 



one of the first scholars of the junior class, died, 
and left us no evidence of his wellbeing in another 
world. It caused some excitement in the minds 
of the students ; but I fear it is all lost. I think I 
enjoy some good degree of religion, but have some 
trials. 0 brother, I should like to see you, and 
converse with you. I received a letter yester- 
day from Brother Asa Heath, Jr. He is wide 
awake to religion. He writes like this in sub- 
stance : " Can it be that I shall assume so impor- 
tant a character as a preacher ? Impossible ! It 
is presumption. But here I am, bound at the peril 
of my immortal soul, that if God shall manifestly 
require me to wander through creation, over hill 
and vale, to call sinners to repentance, I will go." 
I don't wonder you wish an explanation from me 
of something I wrote to you, and I hardly dare to 
give it ; but I really felt confident that you would 
soon assume the great hat and the round coat, 
get you a good pony, and go about your Mas- 
ter's business ; and pardon me if I say I felt as 
though I might some time or other come trotting 
after you. But I labor under some discourage- 
ments now, and do not feel as I have sometimes. 
Permit me again to say I want to see you. I have 
the salutatory oration to perform at the next ex- 
hibition, December 10 ; after which I presume I 
shall soon go home. I hope you will, if possible, 
visit me before that time ; but be sure to write. 
My studies now keep me closely engaged. I am 



LETTER TO E. CLARK. 



65 



studying French, which takes some time ; and be- 
sides I have to write a Latin part. I think I shall 
be more at leisure after this term, and I anticipate 
much pleasure with you next spring. I have a 

chum more pleasant than was. Time flies 

swiftly, and the remainder of my college life looks 
short. Brother Clark, I have had two meetings 
this term with the students, at which I have had 
almost to preach ; i. e., I have had to address 
them in the name of the Lord. 

The first time I felt awfully dependent and re- 
sponsible, and, through the mercy of God, was 
enabled to do better than I expected, and obtained 
a great blessing. At the other meeting, I seemed 
to be left to myself; and this, you know, must pro- 
duce some confusion and embarrassment, although 
I was not confounded. This teaches me what I 
am without my Master ; tries me some, and hum- 
bles a little, as I hope. Remember there are con- 
ferences which devolve on us as duties. 0 brother, 
I need great assistance. Do pray for me. Al- 
though a curtain is drawn between me and future 
life, yet with amazing anxiety I sometimes catch 
a darkened view. May God help me. 

" When shall we two meet again ? 

Oft shall glowing hope aspire, 

Oft to pray will I retire ; 
Oft I'll range this lonely plain, 
Ere I grasp thy hand again." 



But we will, bv and by, meet once for all. In 



66 



A CALL TO PREACH. 



heaven, with all the blessed, may you find your 
unworthy brother, 

Zenas. 

The following letter to his friend Mr. Clark, 
mostly on the subject of a call to preach, I would 
also introduce here, as it was written at about the 
same time with the preceding. 

Bowdoin College, Maine Hall, No. 13, December 5, 1823. 

My Brother Clark : Happy as I am in the fre- 
quent reception of your valuable letters, I think 
I can well afford, although in haste, to devote a 
few moments to your service. Though I live in a 
dry land, and have to drink some bitter water, 
yet it cheers me to learn that pure waters are 
springing up in other places, and especially that 
they flow through the land of the Methodists. 

But what is a call to preach ? Briefly : Sup- 
pose a young man is strongly and resolutely 
bent on habits of vice, and ignorant of reli- 
gion. He suddenly gets converted. Almost at 
once he must preach. But what will convince 
him of it? Nothing short of this. He must 
have a message from the God of Hosts, thus : 
I have saved you ; the world is perishing ; you 
must preach or be damned. These injunctions 
come like sevenfold peals of thunder. If he re- 
fuse, he must almost feel the horrors of hell thicken 
round him, and hear the fiends of darkness howl- 



A CALL TO PREACH. 



67 



ing for their prey. All this he feels. Again : 
The man is middle-aged. He has an extensive 
fortune, and an endearing family, and all is pleas- 
ant. But he must range the world and preach. 
What will convince him ? He has the doom of 
the disobedient set before him in gloomy colors. 
He sees the path of duty before him strewed with 
flowers. He views angels all along the way. He 
looks across the vale of death, and sees a starry 
crown in the hands of a smiling God. In fine, he 
sees of honors, pleasures, treasures, and friends in 
this world an hundred fold, and in the world to 
come life eternal. This is sufficient. But if he 
refuse, his fortune fails, his friends expire ; and, 
friendless and penniless, perhaps, he goes about 
his " Master's business. 7 ' But again, the youth has 
long served his God. He loves his cause, and 
aims at his glory. He has no strong tie to secu- 
lar employments. What is necessary for him ? 
Does he need compulsion or constraint ? No. 
Does he need the thunders of the Almighty ? No. 
He is rational. He has no motives opposing with 
power sufficient to counteract his reason. He 
sees the world filled with immortal souls, many 
of whom are perishing. He hears the Mace- 
donian cry, " Come over and help us. 77 He sees 
the fields white and ready for harvest. He 
thinks "a well-qualified preacher the happiest 
man in the world ; and when he sees, &c, he 



68 



LETTER TO E. CLARK. 



is almost constrained." By a view of the glory 
of the gospel, his eye is fired and his soul roused. 
He is sometimes blest in exhorting, &c. As no 
one is a competent judge of his own talents, we 
must refer that to a higher power. If he rejects 
these evidences, he — . 0 my brother, may we 
never know by experience how to explain this. 

Pardon me, my dear brother, if in so great haste 
I have written nothing right on this subject ; what 
we cannot write we will talk by and by. Pray 
for 

Zenas. 

Paris, January — . 

Dear Brother Clark : I finished the foregoing 
letter in Brunswick, at the time of the date, just 
as I was to start to go to Bath, to a quarterly 
meeting, and left it for Parsons to carry to you, 
according to promise ; but he did not call. I had 
a good meeting, and soon returned home to my 
father's, and from there to this place, where I com- 
menced a school, in which I have enjoyed myself 
well. Believe I enjoy religion uniformly, and am 
some happy, morning, noon, and night ; but am not 
yet sanctified. I am in a strange place. One year 
ago there was a flaming Methodist Society here ; 
but now we have Shakerism, Calvinism, and every 
kind of devilism almost ; and I suppose a great 
part, or perhaps the whole, of the class will slump 



THE SENIOR YEAR AT BOWDOIN. 69 

through. But I board with a good brother ; so I 
have clear air at home, though it is cloudy with- 
out, and hear my Master's voice, " "What is that to 
thee? Follow thou me." I expect to be at college, 
to meet you at the beginning of the term, and 
think it probable I shall attend the anatomical 
lectures. Till then, pray for 

Zenas. 

Caldwell and Pierce returned to college in the 
spring, to spend their last summer in each other's 
society in the pursuits of learning. The senior 
year to Bowdoin students is always looked back 
upon with special pleasure. The eloquent lectures 
of Professor Cleaveland, now the venerable and 
accomplished professor of fifty years, one of the 
best scientific teachers of his country and age ; 
the greater leisure afforded for examining the 
treasures of the college libraries ; and the more 
engaging nature of the studies, as Butler's Analo- 
gy and the Evidences of Christianity, formerly 
under the instruction of the president, — all these, 
and many other points, make the senior year de- 
cidedly the most pleasant in college life. 

Caldwell had been chosen president of the The- 
ological Society for this year, and Pierce was 
chairman of the standing committee of the Athe- 
naeum Society, of which Caldwell also was a de- 
voted member. These college posts are honorable 



70 



mr. Caldwell's class. 



and responsible, and each was admirably adapted 
. to his office. No subjects interested Caldwell's 
mind like those of theology and religion. 

The oration on the General Influence of Religion 
on Mankind, was pronounced by Mr. Caldwell, 
probably at the anniversary of the society, in his 
senior year. It may be found in the closing chap- 
ter of this work. 

In the month of July the parts were assigned. 
To Caldwell was assigned the salutatory oration, 
which was always in Latin, and at that time, was 
the second honor of the class. This oration has 
been preserved, and is a good specimen of easy, 
correct Latin, on the Deeds and Manners of Cin- 
cinnatus. 

The address delivered before the members of 
his class at the close of the senior examination 
has been preserved. It is a true picture of his 
mind, intellectual, dignified, and religious. There 
never was any thing low or unseemly in any thing 
he wrote or in any thing he did. He seemed 
always to act in view of God and eternity. 

On the first Wednesday in September following, 
the commencement occurred at Brunswick, at 
which the class of Mr. Caldwell was graduated, 
consisting of thirteen young men ; not a large 
class, indeed, but distinguished on account of two 
of its members destined to be known to fame, viz., 
Franklin Pierce and Calvin E. Stowe ; the first 



RELIGIOUS HABITS. 



71 



as a statesman, an advocate, and a soldier, the 
second as a biblical scholar and professor. Cald- 
well, too, had it pleased God to spare him, would 
have stood on as high an eminence before the men 
of his generation as he did that day among his 
associates. After commencement, he returned to 
his father's house to enjoy a short respite from 
toil, preparatory to entering upon his labors as a 
teacher. 

In closing this chapter we would add a few 
words on the religious habits of Mr. Caldwell 
while in college. Of his deep piety, and of his 
love for theology as a science, we have already 
briefly spoken. But his piety was not monkish or 
ascetic, but always active and genial. He was faith- 
ful yet judicious in reproving sin ; not casting his 
pearls before swine. So great was the confidence 
of the faculty and the students of the college in 
his piety and ability to instruct in religious things, 
that he occasionally took his turn, in his senior 
year, with the members of the faculty in preaching 
or lecturing to the students. He was always a 
decided Methodist ; yet when the matter of ex- 
perimental piety came up, he knew no difference. 
He felt equally at home among his Congregation- 
al brethren, when freedom was extended to him, 
as he did among his own people. 

There being no Methodist church at that time 
in Brunswick, he usually attended the Congrega- 



72 



RELIGIOUS HABITS. 



tional meeting. He early sought the privilege, 
however, from the government of the college, to 
go to Methodist meetings whenever he could con- 
veniently do so. He became especially interested 
in visiting the Methodist church in Bath. Par- 
ticularly on all quarterly meeting occasions he 
was sure to be present, and ever counted these 
quarterly festivals as a most precious and profita- 
ble means of grace. 



CHAPTER VI. 



Life as a Teacher. — Takes Charge of the Hallowell 
Academy. — Reasons for this Step. — Reflections. 
— Enters upon his Duties. — Correspondence with 
his Friend Pierce; with Mr. J. M. Merrick; 
with his Mother. — First Efforts at Preaching. — 
Letter to W. C. Larrabee. — Licensed to preach. — 
Supplies the Congregation at Winthrop. 

Soon after graduating, in September, 1824, Mr. 
Caldwell took charge of the academy at Hallo- 
well, Maine, a very responsible position, in a large 
and growing village at the head of the tide waters 
of the Kennebec. It was his preference, without 
doubt, to enter immediately into the work of the 
ministry ; but he had incurred some debts in get- 
ting through college, and it hence became neces- 
sary to engage in his old employment for the 
purpose of defraying these. 

It was greatly to the credit of Mr. Caldwell 
that he entirely educated himself. His father 
was not able to aid him further than to help him 
and his brother Merritt to their clothes while 
pursuing their studies. It is not known that either 
of the brothers received five dollars in money 

7 (78) 



74 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



from any source save from the avails of their own 
industry. Their example shows what can be done 
by prudence and economy, and a suitable degree 
of diligence and energy. These young men edu- 
cated themselves without the aid of education 
societies, and almost without any aid from friends. 
Honor be unto the names of such men. They 
should be ranked among the moral heroes of their 
time. They labored, they studied by night and 
by day. They taxed their intellectual and phys- 
ical energies to the utmost. They carefully econ- 
omized. It is doubtful whether either of the 
brothers ever knew the luxury of a broadcloth coat 
till after or about the time they graduated from 
college. Their excellent parents, also, in their dis- 
tant woodland home, remembered their absent sons 
before the throne of grace, in the family circle, and 
in the closet, and ate the bread of carefulness, and 
aided them according to their ability. 

There was a vital sympathy kept up by Zenas 
with his brothers and sister, and especially with his 
beloved mother, at home. It is said by one who was 
an inmate of the family for some time, that when- 
ever he returned from college to the paternal roof, 
he first sought an interview with his mother. To 
her he revealed all his heart. She understood all his 
trials, and was his constant counsellor in all cases 

* It should be stated that Zenas obtained one hundred dollars on 
his father's note ; but this money was all paid back within one year 
after he graduated. 



TEACHES IN HALLOWELL. 



75 



of difficulty. His health was often very delicate ; 
his temperament was nervous and poetic. He was 
sometimes on the mountain top of enjoyment, and 
then he was deeply fallen into the valley of tribu- 
lation. His soul was sympathetic, ardent, and 
strongly sensitive, yet always being bathed and 
comforted with the consolations and delights of 
religion, and under the steady guidance of princi- 
ple and reason. Such minds often seek to express 
themselves in poetic effusions. This was the case 
with Mr. Caldwell. A large number of scraps of 
poetry were found among his papers at his de- 
cease, a number of which we have thought it 
worth while to insert in an appendix to this 
memoir. 

Mr. C. engaged in his duties as a teacher with 
the strongest desires for the religious as well as 
the literary improvement of his pupils. He 
looked upon the vocation of a teacher of youth 
as second in honor and usefulness only to the sa- 
cred office of the Christian ministry. He looked 
upon himself with his school around him as stand- 
ing, if possible, in a still more intimate relation 
to them than that of the Christian pastor — in 
the relation, even, of a Christian father. He 
loved his work, and became a master indeed in it. 
He wisely combined religious services and reli- 
gious instructions with his literary exercises ; all 
was harmony and peace. The young people par- 



76 



TEACHES IN HALLOWELL. 



took of the spirit of their teacher. He loved 
thein, and ever manifested the deepest interest in 
their welfare. They, in return, loved their teach- 
er, and devoted themselves with all diligence to 
their studies. The trustees of the academy were 
united on the preceptor, and gave him their full 
confidence. There was nothing to disturb the 
steady course of a prosperous school but the oc- 
casional turns of ill health to which Mr. C. was 
often subject. Notwithstanding this, the most 
gratifying prosperity attended his labors ; and 
his friends felt the fullest assurance of his future 
success both as a teacher and as a manager of 
institutions of learning. 

Mr. Caldwell had now fairly entered upon pub- 
lic life. It would have been interesting to have 
found more of his correspondence at this period, 
especially his letters to his dearest college friend 
and room mate, Franklin Pierce. But alas! the 
desolations of nearly thirty years have passed over 
this correspondence, and very little of it have I 
been able to recover. From the few specimens 
we have, I infer it to have been remarkably rich 
in thought, feeling in sentiment, and spiritual in 
religion. 

About the second week in September, 1824, he 
entered upon his labors as a teacher in Hallowell. 
In the absence of his own letters, the best sub- 
stitutes I can give to my readers with a view 



LETTER OF FRANKLIN PIERCE. 



77 



of his feelings and spirit, are extracts from letters 
of his friend Pierce. The first is dated Hills- 
boro', New Hampshire, January 15, 1825. 

Dear Chum : Your very polite and friendly 
letter of the 11th instant came to hand this even- 
ing. You may rest assured that nothing, since 
my arrival at this place, has afforded me more 
real satisfaction than the perusal of your com- 
munication. The friendly feelings which I am 
confident you have ever entertained for me, and 
the interest which you manifestly took in my ad- 
vancement and happiness, were such as none but 
an ungrateful heart could forget ; and above all, 
the relation in which we stood to each other dur- 
ing our last year in college was calculated to en- 
dear you to me by the strongest ties of friendship. 
To hear of the kind reception you met on enter- 
ing into your " little world of strangers ; " to hear 
of the large and interesting circle of acquaint- 
ances you have already found ; and withal, of the 
generous reward you are likely to receive for 
your arduous labors, is to me highly gratifying, 
# * * * * * * 

You must write me often. Write with all 
freedom. You cannot be too particular. You 
know particulars are the very life of correspond- 
ence. 

Your affectionate friend, 

7 * F. Pierce, 



78 



EXPERIMENTAL RELIGION. 



The subject of experimental religion, in the 
estimation of Mr. Caldwell, was one of the high- 
est importance. He was not willing that religion 
should be a mere matter of form either with him- 
self or with his friends. Hence we find it to have 
been the one great theme of his conversation, and 
of his letters to his friends. In this he followed 
the example of the early Methodist ministers, 
who every where pressed upon their hearers the 
necessity not only of having the form but also 
the power of godliness. Nothing less would sat- 
isfy him than what he has elsewhere called " the 
happy ; feeling part " of religion. He every where 
insisted on the attainment of " the knowledge of 
salvation by the remission of sins," and that 
Christians should know and rejoice in the fact, 
that they "have passed from death unto life." 

That Mr. Caldwell did not neglect to press the 
subject of experimental religion upon his friend 
Pierce is shown by the following reply of Pierce, 
dated at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, July 16, 
1825: — 

" You say in your letter, ' 1 could write to you 
as a Christian that at which you w r ould laugh as a 
sceptic' You cannot at this time address me as 
one in the enjoyment of experimental religion, and 
I trust you will never be able to address me as a 
sceptic. I have not treated the subject of re- 
ligion as I intended to when I left college ; but 
few days, however, pass by without some serious 



LETTER OF J. M. ME1U1ICK. 



79 



reflections on this important subject. I wish you 
to write me often. Write me freely and without 
reserve on this as on every other subject." 

No one can fail to perceive the noble sincerity 
and frankness of Mr. Pierce in the above reply. 
The reply was as honorable to him as the broach- 
ing of the subject was faithful on the part of 
Caldwell. 

A few months after graduating, Mr. John M. 
Merrick, a classmate who was then about to enter 
into orders in the Protestant Episcopal church, 
writes as follows : ■- Dear Friend C. : I have fre- 
quently thought that I should be pleased to hear 
from you, (and still more to see you,) from this pecu- 
liar circumstance, that our views and feelings on 
the important subject of religion were nearly or 
exactly similar. There is no tie that binds men so 
closely as that of religion ; nothing that so forci- 
bly operates on our affections as a community of 
religious feeling. And I can truly say that what- 
ever of satisfaction I enjoyed in this respect while 
in Brunswick, I ascribe wholly to yourself." 

Mr. M. closes a long letter by saying that he 
desired much to hear from his friend C, as from 
one whose friendship he highly esteemed, and 
whose sincerity and candor, in respect to the 
concerns of religion, he might readily propose to 
himself as patterns for imitation. 

The following letter to his parents, dated Hal- 
lowell, Friday evening, April 22, 1825, will give 



80 LETTER TO HIS FRIENDS AT HOME. 

a very fair impression of his manner of life in 
that place : — 

My dear Friends : I don't know but you may 
be willing by this time to hear from Zenas. Six 
more weeks have passed, not without interest, 
since I saw you. My school has been pretty 
large — most of the time about forty. My 
health has in general been tolerably good, and 
some of the time very good. I do not live a 
very lazy life. I have not had a vacant Sab- 
bath, excepting one, since my first appointment 
at Winthrop ; nor do I expect another very 
soon. I subject myself to considerable hardship, 
but do not know that my health is injured by 
it. When I go to W. I ride Saturday, P. M., 
ten miles. Class meeting in the evening, and the 
whole labor of two meetings on the Sabbath, and 
then ride home again. I get tired [often], but 
the benefit of the exercise counteracts in part the 
evil of the labor of my lungs, and I feel about as 
well Monday mornings as at other times. But no 
matter ; for I think I am happy enough most of 
the time this term, in the performance of my 
duty, to live or die pretty comfortably. I have 
received exhorter's license, but don't know that 
I shall be able to get any farther this year ; for I 
probably cannot go to local preachers' conference. 

It is an interesting time at Winthrop. We have 
a house full, and more too. Methodism is new ; 



LETTER TO HIS FRIENDS AT HOME. 



81 



people very respectful and intelligent ; all atten- 
tion ; heads drop and tears fall occasionally. It 
is one of the most interesting congregations I 
ever saw. Meeting house to be built this summer. 
* * ' * Since I wrote the above, I have had a 
trying Sabbath. My health was very poor, and I 
had hardly any enjoyment ; but still worse, a con- 
gregation looking at me, and I beating against 
wind and tide. My feelings were rather awful. 
It seemed to me that I should die before long 
with such feelings. But they did not continue 
long. I felt almost for the first time that I should 
like to go off to heaven, and leave the field. This, 
however, does not affect my principles ; I calculate 
to keep moving. ***** 

After some references to family matters, this 
excellent letter proceeds] : — 

You may wish to know how I feel about the 
cause of Christ, and the salvation of souls, <fec. 
Well, sometimes I get my heart pretty deeply in- 
terested, and when I see the glories of religion, 
and the impending terrors of the Lord, and es- 
pecially if I can see the falling tear, &c, I feel as 
though I could sing, — 

" O, for a trumpet voice, 

On all the world to call." 

But I should he glad to have the evidence that I 
am really instrumental of some permanent good. 
But before this can take place, perhaps, I must be 



82 



LETTER TO HIS FRIENDS AT HOME. 



more fully set apart and holy to the Lord. For 
this I hope you will pray. * * * 

If I continue my school without any vacation 
till the end of the year, I shall come out one week 
and a half before commencement. On this account 
it is possible I may get a week to go to Industry 
camp meeting, and attend the local preachers' con- 
ference. This would be a peculiar providence ; 
but it is all doubtful. Write me soon, and write 
every thing — general state of health and religion, 
and whatever would be interesting to me. Quar- 
terly meeting commences to-morrow, at Augusta. 

Sunday evening. Been to quarterly meeting — 
terribly solemn time. Mourners came forward ; 
communicants one hundred and forty-five. Father 
Wells preached astonishingly. Congregation much 
agitated, and many tears shed. * * * 

Monday morning. My health is now tolerably 
good. I would be glad to see you, and talk a 
great deal ; but I must be content. * * * Feel 
very serious this morning. Need write no more ; 
and remain as ever, yours, 

Zenas. 

FIRST EFFORTS AT PREACHING. 

As in Brunswick, so in Hallo well, Mr. C 

at once made himself known as a Methodist. 
About two weeks after he had entered upon his 
duties as a teacher, it appears that the Methodist 



LETTER TO KEV. W. C. LARRABEE. 83 

pulpit was left without a supply. Here an occa- 
sion was presented for his first effort to preach. 
He thus describes it in a letter to Rev. W. C. Lar- 
rabee, dated Hallowell, Tuesday, October 19, 1824. 

My dear Brother : I am rather in the low 
grounds now. Three weeks ago last Sunday there 
was no preaching here. Prayer meeting in the 
forenoon, during which I thought thus : " Can I say 
any thing to the people in the afternoon ? " My 
feelings were peculiar. The impression was soon 
strong, and I did not dare to resist it. So in the 
afternoon I went into the altar — mentioned a pas- 
sage of Scripture. After having opened the meet- 
ing, spoke a while with much liberty and enjoyment, 
and so got myself nicely into the hobbles. " I was 
at once Methodist preacher all over town, ^how- 
ever, did not feel bad about it for a while, but my 
health failed me in about a week ; since which I 
have suffered much from general debility and 
weakness of the lungs. Last Sunday, after un- 
availing attempts to obtain some one to preach 
here, I was urged to take the round desk, where I 
succeeded, perhaps, in some degree to the satisfac- 
tion of my brethren and the congregation, yet not 
to my own. My voice was very weak, my animal 
spirits low, and I felt but little divine influence. 
Hence I left the place rather dejected, but hope in 
God. My health is still poor, and my feelings of 
such a kind that I hardly know how to calculate. 



84 LICENSED TO EXHORT AND TO PREACH. 

I wish to engage in my interests the prayers of 
you all who ever think of Zenas. * * * 
Dear brother, how is it with thee ? You did 
not write much about yourself in particular — your 
labors, enjoyments as a preacher and Christian. 
Brother, be sure not to forget the humble, holy, 
feeling, happy part of our good religion. Make 
every thing subservient to the purpose of saving 
the souls of yourself and others. In fine, try to be 
an old-fashioned Methodist. Brother L., .it will be 
no wonder if such fellows as you and I should 
become infidels, if we do not keep the devil at a 
distance. Then let us beware. 

Such talents as Mr. Caldwell possessed, and 
withal such acquirements, both of an intellectual 
and spiritual nature, could not long remain idle 
in the bosom of Methodism. It is probable that 
but few Sabbaths remained unoccupied during the 
short remnant of Mr. Caldwell's life. "We find 
that he was licensed to exhort a few months after 
by Rev. Heman Nickerson, then stationed on Hal- 
lowell circuit, and soon after was duly licensed 
by the local preachers' conference, according to 
the custom of those times, some time in the latter 
part of the summer of 1825. 

Mr. Caldwell found himself incessantly called 
upon to preach so soon as it became known that 
he would consent to occupy the pulpit. He did 
not spare himself, but as far as he was able, an- 



CLOSES HIS LABORS IN HALLOWELL. 85 

swered to the calls made upon him. Though this 
double labor was more than his feeble constitution 
could well bear, yet he supplied the Methodist 
congregation at Winthrop a considerable part of 
the year, a distance of ten miles from Hallowell. 
His labors are to this day affectionately remem- 
bered by some aged members of the Methodist 
Episcopal church in Winthrop. Notwithstanding 
his feeble health, the labors of his school were 
carried out with the greatest efficiency and success. 
He closed up the labors of the year in the Hallo- 
well Academy in August ; and, as a slight testi- 
monial of his faithfulness, and the high regard the 
trustees had conceived of his character, they voted 
to present him ten dollars in addition to his stip- 
ulated salary. 



8 



CHAPTER VII. 



Methodistic Education in New England. — Maine 
Wesleyan Seminary established. — Mr. Caldvxll 
chosen first Principal. — Congratulations of his 
Friend Pierce. — Enters upon his Labors at the Sem- 
inary. — Opinion on the Randall Controversy. — 
Greatly beloved by his Pupils. — Waning Health. 

About this time the Methodists in New Eng- 
land had become a numerous and respectable 
religious community, although only about twenty- 
five or thirty years had passed since the first 
preachers had come into the country. In the 
principal cities on the seaboard several large 
churches had been raised up, as in Providence, 
Boston, Lynn, Portsmouth, and Portland. In the 
remote and sparsely settled towns, especially of 
Maine, New Hampshire, and Yermont, the early 
Methodist preachers were still more successful 
than on the seaboard. As these religious com- 
munities became settled, they began to look about 
for places to educate their children under religious 
influences which might accord with their own faith. 
Hence as early as 1817, efforts were made to es- 
tablish a Methodist seminary at New Market, 

(86) 



MAINE WESLE5TAN SEMINARY. 



87 



New Hampshire. The school went into success- 
ful operation ; but a few years afterwards it was 
judged best to remove it to Wilbraham, Massa- 
chusetts. 

Some excellent members of the Methodist Epis- 
copal church in Maine also became interested, as 
early as 1820, in the establishment of a s'eminary 
for their children. Mr. Elihu Robinson, then re- 
siding at Augusta, Maine, together with Mr. Lu- 
ther Sampson of Readfield, formed the design of an 
institution in which manual labor should be united 
with study. This plan was communicated to a 
few of their friends and of the friends of litera- 
ture, who soon became deeply interested in the 
project, particularly from the following consider- 
ations : that many of our most worthy young men, 
through poverty, were deprived of the advantages 
of an education ; that many of those who were 
favored with these advantages, for want of the 
proper motives to industry, became the abject sub- 
jects of idleness and dissipation ; and that many 
others, who seemed the special favorites of genius, 
for the want of some regular and systematic exer- 
cise, were doomed to find an early grave. The 
system, which had for its object to remedy these 
evils, became fally matured as early as the year 
1824, and went into successful operation in the 
spring of 1825. 

Much anxiety was felt about the principal of 



88 MAINE WESLEYAN SEMINARY. 

this new institution. In all great enterprises of 
the church, Providence provides and prepares its 
necessary agents. When an apostle was wanted 
peculiarly adapted by genius and learning to 
preach to the Gentiles, God had already qualified 
Saul of Tarsus ; when the abominations of Ro- 
manism had arisen to their height, Luther, in the 
counsel of God, had been trained and came forth 
ready for the conflict ; and when popular infidelity, 
and Deism, and general degradation had arisen to 
their height in England, the Wesleys and White- 
field came forth proclaiming the gospel as the 
only way of salvation to lost and ruined men. 
So when this great revival of primitive Chris- 
tianity, called Methodism, had raised up a great 
and powerful people, zealous of good works and of 
godliness, whose children needed an educational 
training, God raised up such men as a Benson, a 
Bunting, a Fisk, and an Emory, an Olin, and the 
Caldwells, in the halls of learning, who were ready 
in due time to enter upon the great work of the 
intellectual training of the children of Methodism. 

The institution above referred to was founded 
in 1825, and was located at Kent's Hill, Readfield, 
Maine. It was called the Maine Wesleyan Semi- 
nary, to indicate its religious connection. It has 
raised up many noble men, especially in the min- 
istry of the Methodist Episcopal church. May it 
ever remain, as it has been hitherto, a gushing 
fountain of knowledge and piety ! 



MR. CALDWELL FIRST PRINCIPAL. 89 



In selecting a man to be the first principal of 
this Seminary, and a leader and guide of Meth- 
odistical education in Maine, general attention 
was turned to Zenas Caldwell. Providence had 
marked him as the man for this important post, 
and he was unanimously elected to the office, and 
entered upon his duties in the fall of 1825. 

A new and glorious field of usefulness now 
opened before him. Hundreds of young people 
in Maine were looking forward with great inter- 
est to enjoy the advantages of the institution. 
The buildings were speedily filled with young 
men and women eager for knowledge. Many 
from the humble walks of life found their way to 
the institution, and availed themselves of the ad- 
vantages of the manual labor department to pay 
their way. 

Under such a leader as Mr. Caldwell, the school 
at once became highly prosperous. Learning and 
religion flourished greatly. Public confidence was 
at once assured, and the friends of the institution 
were animated with high hopes. 

Mr. Caldwell's old and long-tried friend, Mr. 
Pierce, was rejoiced at his prospects, and in a let- 
ter dated December 9, 1825, pours forth his kindly 
feelings in the following words : — 

My good Friend : Your most excellent letter of 
the 10th ult. came to hand to-day, and I find my- 
self compelled to answer it before my attention 
8* 



90 HIS FRIEND PIERCE CONGRATULATES HIM. 

can be given to any other subject ; for, in attempt- 
ing to study, I find my thoughts wandering far from 
the musty folios of this office, and hovering about 
objects so near to my heart and so worthy of my 
attention, that I have no disposition to restrain 
them. 

The intelligence of your appointment as principal 
of the institution lately established at Readfield 
came to me through the medium of the public prints. 
I need not attempt to describe the pleasure which 
the knowledge of this fact brought along with it ; 
but if ever any news was received by me with joy, 
it was surely this ; not that I supposed you would 
meet with ill success in the world, but this ap- 
pointment struck me as peculiarly happy. I 
thought, if left at your election, it would have 
been the very situation you would have chosen. 
The institution is one which I should think was 
likely to meet with public approbation, and secure 
public patronage. Its directors certainly give a 
generous reward to the principal for his services, 
and this argues well for their liberality in other 
respects. If I understand the principle on which 
it is founded, it is reared in the cause of humanity, 
as it is intended to give an opportunity for the 
cultivation of genius, which indigence might other- 
wise compel to remain in obscurity. 

[After speaking of old college friends in a very 
free and kindly manner, he adds the following in 
closing his letter : — ] 



MAINE WESLEYAN SEMINARY. 



91 



Please remember me particularly to your father 
and family when you see them. I shall long re- 
member the kind treatment which I have received 
at their hands. * * . * 

Yours, as ever, 

Pierce. 

It has been already remarked, that the plan of 
uniting manual labor with study was adopted at 
the Maine Wesleyan Seminary. A brief but 
comprehensive statement in regard to the history 
of this department has been given me by Dr. 
Clark, of Portland, Maine, which I would present 
to the reader. " That excellent Christian gentle- 
man and philanthropist, Mr. Luther Sampson, 
was one of the first who became deeply interested 
in the establishment of the manual labor depart- 
ment. Mr. Elihu Robinson, Rev. Mr. Springer, 
and others united heartily in the plans of Mr. 
Sampson. At length an act of incorporation 
was obtained, and a board of trustees elected ; 
but they had no model before them. It was an 
experiment upon an unexplored ocean. Every 
measure adopted to sustain the school was new. 
From our standpoint we may conceive other meas- 
ures and plans would have succeeded better ; but 
it is doubted by those well acquainted with this 
enterprise whether any number of men can now 
be found who could educate so many young men 
with no more money. The practical result of the 



92 



MAIXE WESLEYAN SEMINARY. 



school proves it to have been managed by careful 
and skilful financiers — men to be trusted with 
any amount of funds. But this manual labor 
department, like all others in this country, was 
doomed to be a failure. It could only be sus- 
tained by a large sinking fund, or such a demand 
on the time of the student as would interfere with 
his progress in study, and thus counteract its 
own design." 

After about ten years, the plan was abandoned. 
Mr. Caldwell, as principal, superintended the lit- 
erary department only, while that of manual 
labor was under a distinct head. 

During the following winter vacation, Mr. Cald- 
well devoted himself to preaching and study, and 
labored for the interests of the new institution 
committed to his charge. He was almost alone 
when he commenced the spring term. In a letter 
to his friend Dr. Clark, he says, " My school is 
about fifty, and increasing. Yery respectable. A 
good class in chemistry ■ twelve in Latin ; three 
in Greek. Our prosperity almost outruns us, we 
are so young, i. e., so little organized and pre- 
pared for labor. But our prospects in this are 
good. Best of all is, God is with us. A few, i. e., 
three or four, have found religion this term ; oth- 
ers are inquiring. * * * But my soul is much 
clogged by my poor health. It seems to me I 
should almost want wings if I were well. I say, 



LETTER ON RANDALLISM. 



93 



6 Glory to God' many times while my dear pupils 
are turning to the Lord. Do pray for us." 

Mr. Caldwell was ever awake to every thing 
that affected the interests of the church. About 
this time, Rev. Joshua Randall, a member of 
the New England conference, was much engaged 
in disseminating the following heretical senti- 
ments : — 

1. "In denying that the transgressions of the 
law to which we are personally responsible, have 
had any atonement made for them by Christ." 

2. " In maintaining that the infinite claims of 
justice upon the transgressor of the divine law 
may, upon the condition of mere acts of the trans- 
gressor himself, be relinquished and given up, and 
the transgressor pardoned without an atonement." 

From the zeal and perseverance of Mr. Randall 
in preaching these sentiments, much discussion was 
elicited among the Methodist ministers and mem- 
bers in New England. The views of Mr. Cald- 
well on the subject are presented in the following 
letter to his friend Dr. Clark. The clear common 
sense manifest in this letter shows very well the 
character of his mind. 

Readfield, April 23, 1826. 

My dear Brother Clark : I find the obliga- 
tions of friendship impelling me to devote a few 
moments to you to-day, though my health is poor, 
and my spirits are not very active. With regret 
I must decline entering much into the subject of 



94 



LETTER ON RANDALLISM. 



the atonement : 1st, because I have not Father R.'s 
book ; and 2d, because my knowledge is hardly 
any thing on the subject, and I have no time 
for investigation. But a few thoughts : Now, Je- 
sus Christ, in the atonement, offered himself " a 
propitiation for the sins of the whole world." 
What sins ? Adam's, or passive transgression 
only ? " But if any man sin, we have an Advocate," 
&c. Hence I think the atonement extended both 
to passive and actual transgression ; but in the 
former its final benefits are unconditional, and in 
the latter conditional. But says R., Jesus Christ 
purchased us of the Father, and became our King, 
and we his property, and so he of right forgives 
our sins without any atonement. But what ? The 
Father would not forgive sins without an atone- 
ment ; but the Son, being more benevolent, thought, 
if he could buy us, he would do better by us, and 
forgive us without an atonement. Christ is King, 
then. But he is certainly Advocate. (1 John 
ii. 1.) Now, before whom does he plead, and for 
what ? Or, what has become of the Father ? Is 
he dethroned by the power of the Son, or has he ab- 
dicated his throne on account of his Son's claims ? 
I do believe, that without an atonement, every 
actual sinner would be where Adam was without 
an atonement. I believe the divine essence to be 
one, and that there is harmony in heaven ; and an 
offended God can, through the atonement of Christ, 
be just, and yet the justifier of the (actually) un- 



mr. Randall's sentiments condemned. 95 

godly. I doubt not but the distinction of persons 
in the Deity will be continued while man's proba- 
tion continues. Jesus is on the right hand of the 
Father, expecting till his enemies be made his foot- 
stool. Then he will lay aside his mediatorial robe. 
As the distinction of person in the Deity is not 
(as I conceive) essential, but only official, I know 
not but it may expire with the distinction of 
offices, and God be all in all. But this is only a 
thought of the moment. If false, you will excuse 
it. Now, Brother E., be assured that Randall- 
ism embraces the errors I have mentioned, and I 
think them repugnant to reason and Scripture, 
and surely to Methodism. His real doctrine is, 
as he says in plain words, " no atonement for ac- 
tual sin." These thoughts are original and hasty. 
Perhaps they are untenable. Refute them if you 
please. 

The result of this matter was, that Mr. Randall, 
not being willing to yield to the requirement of 
the New England conference to cease preaching 
these heretical sentiments, was expelled from the 
church. 

Mr. Randall appealed from the decision of the 
New England conference to the ensuing general 
conference, to be held at Pittsburg in May, 1828. 
After a full, and, as was acknowledged by the de- 
fendant himself, an impartial examination (says 
Dr. Bangs, in his History of the Methodist Epis- 



96 



LETTER TO DR. CLARK. 



copal Church, vol. iii. p. 386) and hearing of the 
case, the decree of the ,New England confer- 
ence was affirmed by a vote of one hundred and 
sixty-four out of one hundred and sixty-five, who 
were present and voted on the question ; two 
members, at their own request, being excused 
from voting either way. 

Mr. Caldwell's strong feelings of friendship 
are well illustrated in the following letter, also 
to his friend Dr. Clark. Some incidental mat- 
ters are mentioned, which make the letter one 
of interest. 

Readfield, June 27, 1826. 

Dear Brother Clark : It is time that I devote 
a few moments to you. I do not seem to have 
seen you since last winter, and know but little 
about you at present ; have heard, however, that 
you have considerable business, and I suppose you 
try to be happy as you can. This is just my case. 
My school is strangely large, being between forty 
and fifty. Many are studying the classics, which 
makes my task hard ; but my health is pretty good 
now. I happened to be some unwell, and not very 
happy, when I saw you last, as much as any thing 
because I could see you no longer. If I get in 
sight of a friend, it makes me feel strangely to lose 
sight of him. The joys of friendship in this place 
are not very many. * * * My year draws 
towards a close ; six weeks more. Hardly know 
what to do with myself. Sometimes feel rather 



DECLINING HEALTH. 



97 



too local. Fear this is not the best soil to grow 
in, and be distinguished for doing good. Look 
on a life of labor before me, and this does not 
terrify me. Sometimes my heart would welcome 
toil and pain, but suppose my body would be for 
starting back. I am sometimes rather aspiring ; 
perhaps ambitious. Pardon my folly. Other men 
have some character in the world, and I don't 
like littleness. * * * You must accept of 
this from your brother, Zenas. 

Little did our excellent brother, aspiring to be 
useful to the church and the world, think that in 
six short months he would be called to yield all 
earthly prospects for heavenly felicities. When 
the messenger came, he was found not unprepared. 
He had done his work, and was ready to go. 

The summer term of the Seminary closed up 
with great satisfaction to the trustees and friends 
of the institution. The first principal had proved 
himself abundantly equal to his post. He was 
admired and beloved by his pupils, and the church 
had begun to regard him as a special gift of 
divine Providence to meet this exigency of her 
educational wants. 

Mr. Caldwell employed his vacation in visiting 
his friends and preaching occasional sermons. But 
his lungs gave him, in several' instances, serious 
trouble ; occasional bleeding came on, and his 
already attenuated frame became still more en- 
9 



98 



DECLINING HEALTH. 



feebled, and serious fears began to be entertained 
by many of his friends that his days were nearly 
numbered. 

About the last of August or first of September, 
he preached his last sermon, at East Livermore, 
Maine, from the text, " Because I have called and 
ye refused, I have stretched out my hand and no 
man regarded, I also will laugh at your calamity ; 
I will mock when your fear cometh." (Prov. i. 
24, 26. The sermon is remembered as one of 
great power and is spoken of, to this day, as one 
of the most able discourses ever delivered in that 
place. In September, he became very ill, and was 
not able to attend the camp meeting which was 
held that year at Readfield on the land of the 
Seminary. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Mr. Caldwell enters upon the Duties of a new Term. 
— Becomes too feeble to attend to his Duties. — 
Returns Home. — Feelings in View of Death. — 
Address to his Pupils. — Rev. D. Kilburn's Visit 
and Account of his Death. — His triumphant De- 
parture. — Reflections. — Tributes to his Memory. 

Notwithstanding his feeble health, Mr. Cald- 
well entered upon his duties at the commencement 
of the fall term, and as far as possible rallied his 
energies for his very responsible work. He was 
perfectly happy when surrounded by his students ; 
he lived for their good ; he gloried in this means 
of usefulness ; and the young men and young ladies 
of the institution loved him as a friend and revered 
him as a father. But his strength was evidently 
waning. His lungs bled anew. His pupils ob- 
served his feebleness, and heard his words as 
though they came from the other world. But 
about the first of November, he became too ill to 
attend to his duties, and the painful alternative 
came upon him to go home to die. He went 
home. His physician promptly told him that he 

(99) 



100 



LETTER TO A FRIEND. 



must die. Hope, however, would occasionally 
arise and linger as the violence of the disease 
varied and became milder. 

Bat Mr. Caldwell had set his house in order. 
He was ready to die, should this please God ; 
and on the same condition he was willing to live. 
" Father, not my will, but thine be done,' 7 was 
the sincere exclamation of his soul. 

The following address to his pupils was writ- 
ten before he left Readfield. It was read by his 
assistant, Rev. W. C. Larrabee. " The whole 
school," says one who was present, " was moved 
to tears. Indeed, so profound was their grief, 
that recitations were suspended. One absorbing 
sorrow overwhelmed them. They had loved Mr. 
C. as a teacher and friend, and venerated him as 
a man. Deputations were sent with messages of 
sympathy and offers of assistance day and night. 
Like angels of mercy, they ministered to his 
wants, and, as far as possible, relieved his suffer- 
ings. But the sympathies of his school and the 
earnest prayers of the church could not stay the 
progress of the disease. In three weeks after 
his hemorrhage he bade adieu to this interesting 
school and his friends in Readfield, together with 
all his cherished plans for usefulness in life, and 
was removed, by easy stages, to his father's house, 
to die.' 7 



ADDRESS TO HIS PUPILS. 101 

My dear Pupils : When it was decided by- 
Providence that my labors and pleasures among 
you must cease, I had appointed an hour in which 
to address you briefly, and take an affectionate 
leave of you. But of this privilege Heaven 
seemed willing to deprive me. I was prevented 
(as you know) by the opening of a scene which 
threw every earthly prospect distant, and made 
me feel the value of an anchor cast in heaven. I 
now take a pen in my trembling hand, hoping to 
be able to communicate to you a few, at least, of 
my sentiments ; but must anticipate your indul- 
gence for my imbecility both of body and mind. 
And now for myself. Many of you have been 
acquainted with me in other days, when the en- 
joyment of the present was agreeable, and the 
prospect of the future cheering. Perhaps some 
of you may inquire how it was with your friend 
when the shades of earthly misfortune gathered 
around him till but a few scattering beams of light 
cheered the gloom. I may say that poor Nature 
truly trembled, and would have retired from what 
seemed so much like her hasty dissolution ; but I 
did not for a moment forget that it was devised 
in heaven by my best Friend, who does all things 
well. Hence no corroding fear has chilled my 
heart. I have firmly believed that some good end 
will be answered, and have therefore constantly 
looked for brighter scenes about to rise in earth 
or in heaven. My sickness has already taught 
9* 



102 



ADDRESS TO HIS PUPILS. 



me some useful lessons. I have proved, in some 
measure, how comparatively trifling are bodily 
sufferings. But the mind seems created to be 
eternally more and more powerful to suffer or 
enjoy. Whatever destiny may await my poor 
body, let my spirit be pure, and fitted for immor- 
tal pleasure. I have also seen those principles of 
real benevolence, which I have endeavored with 
so much pleasure to inculcate in your minds, em- 
inently exemplified in your conduct to me. Your 
affection has been proved by labors unremitted, 
though unrewarded. This sympathy of soul would 
- infuse a glow of joy into the heart of a sufferer, 
and teaches me that the pleasures of sickness are 
no paradox. But the most painful lesson I have 
learned is, that the hand of Providence often 
touches the soul's most tender sensibilities, If I 
had been permitted to enjoy the term with you in 
health, I think my pleasures would have been 
more than commonly fall to the lot of men. I 
had united labor and pleasure, and pronounced, 
" Absence of action is distress." My highest de- 
light has been to speak to listening hearers of the 
glory of the gospel of God. But my strength is 
prostrate, my pen is almost useless, my voice at 
present sealed in silence, and I am an example of 
what I would have deprecated — "necessary inac- 
tivity ; n in fine, I seem as thrown aside among the 
world's worn-out machinery. But all is icell. How 
happy would I be to live, and lead the way for 



ADDRESS TO HIS PUPILS. 



103 



myriads of my fellows from the plough to walk in 
the paths of Science, to climb the steep of emi- 
nence, and drink from the sublime fountains of 
intellectual enjoyment ! Happy to lead thousands 
of the daughters of Science back to ages remote, 
where they may study genius in the original, ply 
the sources of the sublime philosophy of Plato 
and Socrates, or go on with Newton through his 
systems of worlds, till their minds, assuming an- 
gelic wings, shall soar with piercing eye " through 
nature up to nature's God." Still happier if I 
could take my trumpet and go up upon the walls 
of Zion. This may be my privilege. The prayers 
of the pious may gain this for me. At present I 
am in a balance that wavers ; and how it will final- 
ly vibrate is known only in heaven. 

My dear fellow youth, may you be happy in all 
your relations, and while you cheerfully defend 
the great fabric of human happiness, may you ever 
support the standard of this rising seminary on 
which shall be represented Science and Virtue 
hand in hand. Let me solicit you ever to unite 
the pursuit of knowledge with the practice of 
piety. Let me persuade you to prepare to meet 
with me in peace in the great day of decision 
which shall try men's souls. 

I have written a few scattered fragments as 
strength permitted. I would write much, but 
time and strength both fail me, and I must drop 
my pen. Many of you I shall doubtless see no 



104 



REV. D. KILBURN'S VISIT. 



more clothed in mortality. I most affectionately 
bid you all adieu, and endeavor to repress my 
flowing tears and alleviate my painful sensibility 
by the hope, the cheering hope, the ardent hope, 
that we all, " having washed our robes and made 
them white in the blood of the Lamb," shall to- 
gether participate in the sublime joys of immortal 
glory, where " sickness and sorrow, pain and 
death, are felt and feared no more." 

Z. Caldwell. 

Rev. D. Kilburn, then presiding elder of Port- 
land district, visited him about three weeks before 
his death. He could then speak only with a 
whisper, and that but a few minutes at a time. 
Mr. K. remarks, in a brief memoir written for the 
Christian Advocate shortly after his death, as 
follows : — 

" While I was with him he was better than he 
had been for some time before, or ever after. On 
my entering the room he expressed much satisfac- 
tion in once more seeing me, and soon reminded 
me of a conversation we had a few months before 
upon a desire to live in the world, in which he 
observed, that we contracted a love for life by 
being so closely connected with the various circum- 
stances of this world. He then said, 1 When I was 
first taken with bleeding at the lungs, my mind 
was thrown into confusion, as I thought it likely I 
should soon die. My connection with the institu- 



REV. D. KILBTJRN S VISIT. 



105 



tion and desire to be useful in the promotion of 
its prosperity, the manifest unwillingness of the 
students to have me constrained to leave my work, 
together with my former desire to live for the 
purpose of doing good in the world, caused me to 
feel anxious that God would raise me up again. 
But I have given this up to God, and have no will 
of my own to live or die. I have a constant 
peace, and not a doubt of my future well being. 
I have often felt a conviction for a clean heart, 
have sought it by prayer and fasting, but have 
never obtained an evidence at any one time of the 
work being done, but think it has been carried 
on gradually ; for I now feel a perfect peace, and 
nothing contrary to love ; yet not that fulness of 
joy which I desire to enable me to shout his 
praise.' 

" The next morning I went to his room to take 
my final leave of him, and informed him I must go. 
He replied, ' I must say more to you before we 
part/ and requested that all might leave the room 
but myself. I then drew near his bed, and heard 
his whispering voice for the last time. He com- 
menced by saying, ' When I was thirteen years of 
age the Lord converted my soul ; at sixteen he 
appeared for me in a remarkable manner ; not 
only forgave me my backslidings, but, as I then 
thought, an evidence, if I would be faithful in his 
service, that I should live to be useful in the 
church. I then covenanted with God that I would, 



106 



REV. D. KILBURN'S VISIT. 



which covenant up to this day I have endeavored 
to keep. This promise has been precious to me, 
and it now appears a dark providence that I must 
die when I have just commenced my work ; but I 
do not know as it is any thing very mysterious. 
It may have been vanity in me to think that I 
could be useful in the world.' 

" After some conversation concerning the semi- 
nary, I observed to him, this was probably the 
last interview we should ever have on earth ; if 
you go to heaven first I hope to meet you there. 
He replied, ' Meet in heaven, I guess we shall ! 
Yes, we shall meet in heaven ; what can hinder ? 
Can principalities or powers, things present or 
things to come ? No. We shall meet in heaven. 
Praise the Lord ! Praise the Lord ! 0 the bless- 
edness of meeting in heaven ! with those whom we 
have so dearly loved on earth, have counselled 
together, suffered and gone to the house of God 
together, there to enjoy an eternal heaven, where 
parting, pain, and sorrow shall come no more. 
0, glory!' 

" I can never express the triumphant manner in 
which he described the reunion of kindred souls 
in the bright world of glory. My own soul was 
swallowed up in the visions of God, and I almost 
fancied that I was meeting and rejoicing with him 
in eternal blessedness. 

" After wiping the tears from his face, which ap- 
parently shone with the glory of God, he desired 



LETTER OF DR. CLARK. 



10T 



me to present his love to some friends with 
whom he never expected to meet on earth. We 
then took an affectionate leave for time. At 
many other seasons, when released from pain and 
delirium, he spoke of the glories of another world, 
and the pleasure which religion affords, with 
astonishing delight. 

" At one time, being informed by his physician 
that he could not live, he asked his mother how 
long she thought he would suffer. The answer 
was, not long. He then cried out, £ 0, pleasing 
prospect ! for worlds on worlds I would not be de- 
prived of the hope I have of leaving a world of 
suffering for a blissful immortality ! ; Just before 
he died, he said, ' Life ! life ! 0, eternal life 1 ' 
Thus terminated the earthly existence of our 
beloved brother, Zenas Caldwell, in full hope of 
the glories of a blissful immortality. The loss 
which our church has sustained in the death 
of our worthy brother is very sensibly felt. He 
will long live in the affections of those who 
knew him." 

The following recollections of his last sickness, 
by his sister, Mrs. Clark, of Portland, Maine, 
(she having been called home from the M. W. 
Seminary to give those attentions which affec- 
tion might suggest for the relief of her suffering 
brother,) are here presented, mostly in her own 
very appropriate and expressive language. 



108 



LETTER OF MISS N. CALDWELL. 



" For some weeks previous to his death, he no- 
ticed little that was passing around him, lying 
apparently unconscious, or speaking incoherently 
as his mind wandered ; yet whenever he spoke 
of religion, of God or heaven, Reason resumed 
her throne, and his countenance was lighted up 
with more than earthly radiance. 

" We thought it remarkable, at the time, that 
although, when professors of religion called to 
see him, he gave them little more than a sign of 
recognition, being very low, and unable to speak 
above a whisper, yet if any called who had not 
an interest in Christ, with characteristic zeal for 
the salvation of souls, he would rouse himself, 
and most earnestly and faithfully warn them of 
their danger. Well do I remember, when a little 
cousin of some ten or twelve years went into his 
room, — one who had neither pious parents nor 
religious instruction at home, —how he drew her 
to his bedside, and entreated her to begin from 
that day to pray to her heavenly Father, and 
give her young heart to God. 

" The last instance of this kind was, I think, 
some three days before his death. When, from 
extreme weakness, we thought him incapable of 
any further effort of the kind, he saw a young 
gentleman of great promise, then a member of 
Bowdoin College, standing in the room ; he re- 
quested him to sit by his bed, when, with a coun- 



HIS FUNERAL SERMON. 



109 



tenance beaming with intelligence and radiant 
with joy, in language most expressive and beauti- 
ful, he told him of the love of the Savior, the 
excellence of religion ; how it had sustained him 
under a painful sickness of more than nine weeks, 
and how it then cheered him with the prospect of 
everlasting life beyond the grave. He then plead 
most earnestly with the young man to consecrate 
his heart with all his powers to God, and would 
not be denied till he had obtained from him a 
pledge that he would commence a life of prayer. 
All in the room were overwhelmed ; for we felt 
that God was there. 

"He suffered extremely during his last hours, 
and much of the time was delirious. After hav- 
ing said much we could not understand, he said, 
distinctly, ' Life ! life ! Amen ! Glory ! glory ! 5 
Soon after, ' Lord, do come ! ' 

" Thus did our merciful Lord cheer the heart of 
his servant, under a form of pulmonary disease 
so malignant, that, in ten weeks from the time 
he went in and out before his pupils, he was pros- 
trate in death ; and thus did he enable him to 
triumph over death.' 7 

His funeral sermon was preached by Rev. D. 
Kilburn, the presiding elder of Portland district, 
and weeping, devoted friends mournfully laid him 
away in the tomb. 

10 



110 



REFLECTIONS. 



Thus passed away, at the early age of twenty- 
six, December 21, 1826, this devoted and very 
promising young man. He had so distinct a con- 
ception of the field of his future usefulness, as an 
educator and minister in the church of his choice, 
and so fully was he prepared for and inclined to 
this work, that his early death strikes us as one of 
those singularly mysterious movements of God's 
dispensations which will not be solved to our 
minds till we ourselves shall " gain the blest shore." 
This mystery is just as great, and perhaps even 
more perplexing than it was at the time of his 
death, nearly thirty years ago. So greatly does 
the Methodist Episcopal church need men of 
the stamp and culture of Zenas Caldwell, that 
our work is greatly retarded for the want of 
them. 

How vast is the loss which an infant church, 
numbering a membership by thousands and tens of 
thousands of souls, suffers, when one of her young 
men, eminently fitted by nature, by grace, and by 
education, to be a leader and guide to her sons and 
to her daughters, is cut down in the very morning 
of his labors ! In November, 1853, I visited his 
grave. The cold winds of autumn were sweeping 
over his tomb ; and I could but weep over the 
buried hopes of so many thousands, as I read 
the following beautiful inscription, prepared by 
Professor M. Caldwell : — 



TRIBUTES TO HIS MEMORY. 



Ill 



SACRED 
TO THE MEMORY OF 

ZEN AS CALDWELL, A. B., 

FIRST PRINCIPAL OP 

MAINE WESLEYAN SEMINARY: 

"WHO DIED 

Dec. 21, 1826, 
Mt. 26. 

Too feeble to endure the exertions to which his aspiring genius 
and benevolent soul incited him, he sank beneath a pulmonary 
affection, leaving a large circle of friends to lament his early fall. 

" He would indeed have lived for usefulness, 
But well he knew 'twas better to go up 
And be with Christ. He suffered joyfully ; 
And now the sacred lyre he strung on earth 
He sweeps in heaven." 

" Sic transit gloria mundi." 

The death of a young man of so much promise, 
and especially of so much promise as a burning 
and shining light in the Methodist ministry, spread 
a pall of mourning over all the Methodist churches 
in Maine. Several beautiful tributes to his mem- 
ory found their way into the public prints. We 
cannot forbear presenting the one which first fol- 
lows, by his brother Merritt, and the second by 
" Alfred G. H.," addressed to his mother, and tho 



112 



REFLECTIONS AT HIS GRAVE. 



third, by " S. M. " published in Zion's Herald, and 
dated at Wilbraham, February 12, 1827. 

LINES IN MEMORY OF AN AFFECTIONATE FRIEND. 

I knew him well ; he was the joyous friend 

And the companion of my earliest years. 

Ere guilt's foul blush had tinged his rosy cheek, 

Or he had learned experience from the world, 

Disease came o'er him ; and the rose so red 

Put on a violet paleness ere full blown. 

'Twas then, " Though here I fade, I'll bloom in heaven," 

Fell from his faltering tongue in accents faint. 

He lived, and 'twas for this he labored, 

That he might not live in vain. I saw him 

When about to burst the chains and leave 

The academic shades and classic hall, 

To publish to the world good news from Heaven. 

His hectic cheek now pointed to the urn 

Of white, and told me that his days were few ! 

Disease progressed, and nature sunk at length 

Beneath its cruel power. ' But all is well,' 

He said, ' for 'tis devised in heaven, by Him 

"Who loves me best.' He would have lived for usefulness ; 

But well he knew 'twas better to go up 

And be with Christ. He suffered joyfully ; 

And now the sacred lyre he strung on earth 

He sweeps in heaven. 



REFLECTIONS AT THE GRAVE OF CALDWELL. 

"It was just as the sun was going down, at the 
close of one of the pleasant days with which Octo- 
ber commences, that, travelling in a strange place, 
I came along to a burying ground. It was situ- 
ated on a hill, and, as usual, was located near an 



REFLECTIONS AT HIS GRAVE. 113 

old place of worship, which now is quite in ruins. 
It was a pleasant place in the south part of Ox- 
ford county, Maine ; and as I looked on the lofty 
summits of New Hampshire's mountains, from 
which were reflected the last rays of the setting 
sun, it brought vividly to my mind the scenes of 
other days. Connected with the same were a 
thousand pleasing associations ; and the burying 
ground, which at first caught my attention, came 
near being passed without particular notice. In- 
deed there was nothing there apparently to inter- 
est the stranger ; yet, I know not why, a single, 
plain, but delicately white stone — which it is true 
formed quite a contrast with the more rude monu- 
ments of slate and freestone with which it was 
surrounded — excited my curiosity to enter the 
enclosure. Among the many who seem to have 
been interred there, but few had even a line in- 
scribed to their memory. The names on the stones 
near but heightened my curiosity ; and I at once 
thus unexpectedly found myself by the grave of 
the lamented Caldwell. 

" In vain should I attempt to describe the rush of 
thoughts upon my mind. He had been my friend, 
as he had been the friend of hundreds in days gone 
by. I had seen his virtuous example, and heard 
his judicious counsel. I had known of his thirst 
for knowledge, and, after he had acquired his edu- 
cation, notwithstanding his other engagements, 
had seen his zeal as a Christian minister. Now 
10 * 



114 



REFLECTIONS AT HIS GRAVE. 



his example was not seen ; his counsel was no longer 
heard. His studies, his labors, his toils, they had 
ceased ; and he, though a youth, was sleeping by 
the side of his aged ancestors. I thought of the 
ties that had been broken, and of the hopes that 
were blighted ; of his kindred and friends, to 
whom he had become endeared by his unassum- 
ing modesty, and by his firm and decided piety ; 
of the institution of which he was the first prin- 
cipal, and which, under his direction, acquired a 
reputation which has scarcely since been sur- 
passed ; of the church which so lately looked to 
him as one of its most useful members ; and of the 
world, of which he seemed destined to become a 
great benefactor. But here I read, on the chis- 
elled marble, the story of his rapid decline and 
premature death. His eye, that once beamed with 
joy and intelligence, was now dim ; his arm was 
now unnerved ; and the heart which was once 
alive to the pleasures of friendship, and awake to 
all the sympathies of social life, had now ceased 
its fluttering, and was still in death. 

" And why was he thus early taken away ? why 
cut off in the midst of his usefulness, and thus sud- 
denly swept from the stage of life, as though 

u The sun 

Should set ere noon, in eastern oceans drowned " ? 

I was, indeed, almost led to murmur against Prov- 
idence — when the following lines there sketched, 



RECOLLECTIONS BY FROF. M. CALDWELL. 115 

and which I at the time pencilled down, caught my 
eye, and silenced all my queries : — 

' He would indeed have lived for usefulness ; 
But well he knew 'twas better to go up, 
And be with Christ. He suffered joyfully ; 
And now the sacred lyre he strung on earth, 
He sweeps in heaven.' 

Then why, thought I, should we mourn him as 
dead who lives in heaven? I wiped away my 
tears, and a feeling of triumph came over me as I 
thought of a future meeting. A feeling of sadness 
also pressed upon me as I read the last passing 
remark, ' Sic transit gloria mundi, 1 which led me 
to think of Spencer, of Summerfield, of Morse, of 
Brainard, and a host of others of whom the world 
seemed not to be worthy. 

" The sun had gone down. I left the spot on 
which I stood to proceed on my journey. With 
that evening scene will long be connected in my 
mind many pleasing associations. 

" Zenas Caldwell, a visit to whose grave gave rise 
to the foregoing reflections, was early instructed 
in the principles of the Christian religion, and I 
think at the age of about thirteen, became the 
subject of converting grace. His mind was early 
set on obtaining a classical education ; but to 
acquire this, he had to provide for himself the 
pecuniary means, and to resist, single-handed, the 
prejudices of many of his friends. No Methodist 



116 RECOLLECTIONS BY PROF. M. CALDWELL. 

in his native state had ever before him obtained a 
college education ; nor had a Methodist then been 
graduated at either of the colleges of Maine. 
These difficulties, however, were all surmounted, 
and he entered Bowdoin College in September, 
1821 ; and though his preparation had been most- 
ly private, and he had been engaged in teaching a 
part of each year, on being graduated, in 1824, he 
took the second honor of his class. Though there 
was at that time little genuine piety in college, his 
remained unshaken ; and though he was much of 
the time alone as a Methodist, — there being no 
Methodist church or preaching in Brunswick, — 
his attachment to and support of the doctrines 
and institutions of Methodism never wavered. 

"His life was characterized by a consistent piety, 
a good judgment, an ardent thirst for knowledge, 
a perseverance not easily overcome, an ambition 
to be useful, and a devoted attachment to his 
friends and to the church of which he was a mem- 
ber. These qualities combined made him a sound 
scholar, a successful teacher, a good theologian, a 
clear, impressive preacher, a valuable member of 
the church, and a most estimable friend. He was 
zealous without an excess of enthusiasm, and a 
philosopher without any approach to scepticism. 
He had a strong and vigorous intellect, but con- 
nected with very delicate sensibilities and a feel- 
ing heart. These, stimulated to action by excessive 



RECOLLECTIONS BY PROF. M. CALDWELL. 117 



labor, and restrained in their action only by a very 
feeble constitution, sometimes acquired too great 
an ascendency — getting the better of his judg- 
ment, and producing a state of mind poorly fitted 
to confirm the health, or even to preserve the life, 
in which so many felt an interest. Still, such was 
his self-control, that this excitable state of feeling 
rarely if ever became a subject of observation to 
any but his most intimate friends, and never a 
source of affliction to any one but himself. Thus 
all his public acts were characterized by the 
most marked consistency, showing that, for all 
purposes of usefulness to others, he had a health- 
ful balance of mind, which even disease itself could 
not destroy. 

" In person, he was above the ordinary stature, 
being about six feet and one inch in height ; was 
slim, with a depression of the chest, and usually 
stooped a little. His features were rather strongly 
marked ; cheek bones high, and face quite spare ; 
his hair was thin, light colored, and lay in curls 
about a high forehead ; and he had an eye pecu- 
liarly expressive. Though he came late upon the 
stage of active life, few have died at the age of 
twenty-six leaving so many to feel that they had 
lost a benefactor and a friend." 



118 



TRIBUTE TO HIS MEMORY. 



LINES TO MRS. CALDWELL ON THE DEATH OF 
HER SON ZENAS. 

BY ALFRED G. H. 

Hail, infant lyre, and breathe a milder strain ; 
I'll sweep thy strings, and sweep thy strings again, 
Till thy frail casement moulders all away ; 
New strings to sweep in that eternal day 

Sister, shall that voice the choral bands employ ? 
"With thy new harp unite to spread the joy. 
Let thy frail bosom heave with fervent prayer ; 
Soon thou shalt sink, and rise a minstrel there. 

Awake in praise, and sing with early joy ; 
The time is past ; thy cheek from tears is dry ; 
Affliction's star has set ; the gold's refined ; 
The robe is washed ; thy heart to death resigned. 

Thy days are few, thy tears are fewer still ; 
An hour of bliss thy glowing cup shall fill. 
The cross resign, the crown of glory wear ; 
His sacred praise unfold — farewell to prayer. 

Eternal praise, on kinder notes of love, 
Eternal praise shall fill the courts above ; 
Still, thy faint voice in opening accents raise 
A song of bliss, to help your Zenas praise. 

Then the twin hearts, that mingled once in prayer, 
Shall swell with love, commingling sweetly there. 
Where parting's o'er, and sorrow's fount is dry, 
Alleluias ring 'mid shouts of victory. 

While bending o'er the grave, in holy prayer, 

Your locks are hoary — and you'll soon be there. 

Remember me ; my frailer bark is thrown 

From wave to wave, through scenes of care unknown ; — 

Remember me when joy yet heaves your breast ; 
Tell him who gave thee love to give me rest ; 
Tell him who leads to scenes divinely fair 
To guide me too, and 1 will meet you there. 



TRIBUTE TO HIS MEMORY. 



119 



TO THE MEMORY OF REV. ZENAS CALDWELL, LATE 
PRINCIPAL OF THE MAINE WESLEYAN SEMINARY. 

Awake, my untuned lyre, and from each string 
Shake off the gathered dust, and kindly lend 

Thy aid, while my full heart attempts to sing 
A funeral dirge, a requiem to my friend. 

Farewell, my loved ; thy head lies low in death ; 

Cold is the night that crowds thy eyelids down ; 
No more shall prayer be whispered in thy breath, 

Nor faith direct thee to a heavenly crown. 

"What though thy body shall be food for worms ? 

And silence brood upon thy house of clay ? 
Thou art protected from the ruthless storms 

Of this rude world that waste our lives away. 

No more shall anguish cross thy peaceful breast, 
Nor tears bedew thine' eye for others' woe ; 

For here thou art, in thy long, dreamless rest, 
Where none shall wake thee — neither friend nor foe. 

And now, should pestilence traverse our land ; 

Should famine wanton o'er thy native soil ; 
Should war spread ruin with his wasting hand, 

And clothe the crimson plains with human spoil'; — 

Nay, worse ; should piety on earth decline, 
And superstition's torch anew be hurled ; 

Should folly sit enthroned in wisdom's shrine, 
And vice gigantic shake the moral world, — 

These shall not grieve thee, for thy griefs are o'er ; 

These shall not break the peace of thy repose, 
For death on these has shut his iron door, 

And strong withstands the rush of human woes. 

But is he slumbering in that house of clay ? 
What ! sleeps the fire of his immortal mind ? 



120 



TRIBUTE TO HIS MEMORY. 



No, no ; triumphantly it burst away, 
And left its shattered tenement behind. 

As gliding meteors, in a starless night, 

With dazzling splendor burst upon the eyes, 

So his exulting spirit took its flight, 
And marked its shining pathway through the skies. 

And now the wonders of that world unfold ; 

He sees heaven's millions and her happy plains ; 
He treads the pavements of transparent gold, 

And hails that land where joy forever reigns. 

Now, what is earth, and what are earthly toys, 
To those to whom the rich bequest is given, 

To range those fields, to taste those endless joys, 
And breathe the vital atmosphere of heaven ? 

Say, did he love to swell the vocal choir, 
And did harmonic sounds his mind refine ? 

There shall he sing, and sweep an angel's lyre, 
Till his rapt soul dissolves with love divine. 

Did friendship yield him here a bosom joy, 
And was he formed for her most sacred ties ? 

There shall she yield him bliss without alloy, 
Where love and pure affection never dies. 

Did knowledge spread before him all her lore, 
And was he joyous at her gushing spring ? 

There shall he ever towards Omniscience soar, 
Borne upward ceaseless on a seraph's wing. 

'Tis not mere fancy sends the saint to heaven, 
As poets send their heroes up the skies ; 

No ; 'tis the gospel, by Jehovah given, 
That pours eternal light on closing eyes. 

0 blessed gospel ! how it gilds the tomb, 
And plants a glory in that dark abode I 

It dissipates the dreary, frightful gloom, 
And shows an outlet from the vault to God. 



TRIBUTE TO HIS MEMORY. 



121 



Time was when darkness, brooding o'er the dead, 
Was moulded into shapes of frightful mien ; 

When fear, when doubt, despair, with frenzied head, 
And dread annihilation's form were seen. 

But these have fled, the tyrant lost his sting, 

And dying mortals hail eternal day ; 
Henceforth from dust ecstatic visions spring, 

And death's pale monarchy has passed away. 

No more to find a rest beyond the grave 

Shall science strain her doubtful, erring eye ; 

No more shall Tully ride conjecture's wave, 
Or godlike Cato in despondence die. 

The vail is rent, the waves are hushed in peace, 

And silent is the wail of wild despair ; 
Let tears be dried, let every sorrow cease ; 

There is a heaven, — and thou, my friend, art there ! 

S. M. 

Wilbraham, Feb. 12, 1827. 



11 



CHAPTER IX. 



Recollections of Mr. Caldwell, by Rev. W. C. Larra- 
bee, LL. D., Superintendent of Public Instruction 
in the State of Indiana. 

The following recollections, so kindly furnished 
by Rev. W. C. Larrabee, LL. D., I am happy to 
present to the reader just as the excellent author 
wrote them. No reader tires over what Dr. Lar- 
rabee writes ; and the letters communicated by 
him will commend themselves for their sterling 
sense and childlike simplicity. 

Office of Superintendent of Public Instruction, 

Indianapolis, February 14, 1854. 

Rev. S. M. Tail. 

Dear Brother : Your request for me to furnish 
you such material as may be in my possession 
towards completing the memoir of that most es- 
timable and deeply lamented young man, Zenas 
Caldwell, and the efforts I have made in accord- 
ance therewith to recall what recollections I may 
of the past, have proved in their result to me — as 
Ossian says of the remembrance of past joys — 
" pleasant yet mournful to the soul." I had long 
and carefully preserved, among my most cherished 

(122) 



RECOLLECTIONS BY REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 123 

and sacred relics of former days, a few poems, 
sweet, beautiful poems, written by Zenas Caldwell, 
on subjects on which his heart was intent, while 
he was in college. These manuscripts, however, 
with many other dearly cherished keepsakes of 
early days, were unfortunately destroyed by the 
fire that consumed my cottage home, with most of 
its contents, one unlucky day last autumn. 

I have nothing of the manuscripts of Zenas 
Caldwell in my possession but two or three let- 
ters, which, with letters from other friends of 
my childhood, I had bound in a volume, which, 
amid the ruins of my house, happened to be pre- 
served. 

That volume, as I have been looking on it 
to-day, has seemed to me a mirror, like that of the 
magician, on whose surface the wanderer, as he 
looked, saw depicted all the scenes of the past — 
his childhood's playground, the hills and the val- 
leys of his native home, and his friends of yore, 
friends long since dead and buried, and, perhaps, 
forgotten. 

On opening that book, there burst on my soul 
the accumulated remembrances of thirty years. 
There I saw, among my familiar correspondents 
of olden time, the names, not only of Zenas and 
of Merritt Caldwell, and of Kilburn, Fisk, men 
known to the church and to the world by their 
superior talents and eminent usefulness, but of 
others less kno\?n to the world, but not less dear 



124 RECOLLECTIONS BY REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 

to my heart — Betsey Cushman, a woman whose 
superior in all that makes a woman lovely I have 
never known, but who for more than a quarter of 
a century has been sleeping on the hillside, near 
her children's home ; Phebe Clark, the compan- 
ion of my earlier studies, who lies buried near 
that dear old homestead, on which falls at evening 
the shadows from the grand old mountains at the 
sources of the Kennebec ; Phebe W. Wiley, whose 
grave is made by the side of her youthful husband, 
in Africa ; and Lucy Maria Taylor, who sleeps, 
with her babe on her breast, the long and dream- 
less sleep of the grave, in a beautiful cemetery of 
the west, where quiet flow the tranquil waters of 
the Wabash. 

On the pages of that book stand, also, the 
names of those with whom I was once intimately 
associated, but whom I have seldom met for many 
a long year. Some of them occupy high positions 
of honor and of usefulness. One is president of a 
college, another is bishop of the church, and others 
are filling various stations of eminence in the liter- 
ary, political, and religious enterprises of the age. 

The first time I remember seeing Zenas Cald- 
well was at a camp meeting at the old camp 
ground on Kent's Hill, in 1822 or 1823. I did 
not at that time enjoy the pleasure of his personal 
acquaintance ; but the indications of piety and 
zeal I observed in him during the progress of the 
meeting deeply interested my attention. I met 



LETTER TO REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 125 

him at Brunswick the next year, and on several 
other occasions during his college life ; but my 
recollection of incidents at those interviews is 
faint and shadowy. The first letter I have from 
him is dated at Bowdoin College, July 24, 1824. I 
was at the time at Farmington Academy, pursuing 
the course of study preparatory to entering col- 
lege. I had commenced the elements of the pre- 
paratory course in April, 1824, and had been aim- 
ing to enter sophomore in September, 1825 ; but 
finding the amount of study required very con- 
siderable for so short a time, and myself under the 
necessity of spending a portion of the year teach- 
ing, in order to earn my way, I had thought it 
might be better to enter the next year freshman, 
and had written to him for advice. In the same 
letter I had expressed some anxiety respecting the 
future prospects of the church in Maine. The 
state had been just formed into a new conference. 
We had few preachers of age and experience, and 
we feared the result of the division of the confer- 
ence, by which means we had been left so feeble. 

The letter exhibits his peculiar traits of heart 
and of mind. 

Bowdoin College, July 24, 1824. 

I have one great sheet of paper, and I will take 

it and write a -letter to my dear Brother L ; 

but I know not as I shall fill it. In truth, I have 
been thinking I should preach to the students this 
11 * 



126 LETTER TO REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 



evening, or rather " hold a conference ; " but I find 
I have not half religion enough, nor sufficient 
health and animal spirits, besides my lack of na- 
tive talents. So I will spend my time with you, 
after having requested the president to supply my 
place. 

I have but little more than a week to stay here. 
College affairs have lost their pleasant aspect to 
me, and I am rather tired of my residence. Under 
these impressions, I found a letter from you to-day, 
and caught it and read it with much pleasure, as 
it afforded me quite a novel repast in this solitude. 

Now I will try to help you out of your be- 
tweenity. 

DIALOGUE. 

" I suppose that I can enter college as a sopho- 
more next year." 
Good. 

" But perhaps I shall not be able and keep 
school much." 

No matter. But still I think you may keep a 
short school without any danger. 

"If I enter freshman, I can keep school, and 
pay my way, without contracting debts." 

You need not contract debts if you enter sopho- 
more, I presume. Remember your expenses here 
will be about three dollars per week. So there 
will be a saving of a year's time, with very little 
difference in expense. I mean you can keep school 
enough to pay your expenses out of college, and 



LETTER TO REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 127 



enter sophomore, as well as you can pay the ex- 
pense of the freshman year, and enter freshman. 

" I shall have plenty of time, so that I can get 
well prepared." 

Now, in the first place, very little depends on ex- 
traordinary preparation, except in the languages ; 
and further, I doubt not you will be well prepared. 

"By entering freshman, I shall enjoy college 
advantages a whole year longer than if I enter 
sophomore." 

The superior advantages in college are pretty 
much confined to the languages, and of these you 
can avail yourself by studying correctness in con- 
struing and attending closely to declension and 
conjugation, and synopsis in Greek. I do not 
think you would acquire much general knowledge 
in college during the freshman year, since much of 
your time would be occupied in studies of little 
consequence to you, as English grammar, and other 
branches which you already understand. Kemetn-. 
ber that in one year after you graduate, you may, 
probably, by keeping an academy, pay the whole 
expense of your education, excepting what you 
make by the way. The extra advantages of a 
year in college bear no proportion to a year's 
time. I do not speak lightly of college advan- 
tages in general, but of all years the freshman 
year is least important. In fine, let me tell you, 
that you will be in college long enough, at any 
rate. Now, my advice to you, in toto, is, to stay 



128 LETTER TO REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 

among the brethren, and study, and preach, and 
pray, and he a good boy, till sophomore year, and 
then enter college. In relation to what you could 
study alone, I think you can read half of Cicero, 
part or all of Sallust, the Epistles in the Testa- 
ment, the prose in Minora, (remembering to omit 
" Cebetis Tabula," as it is not required,) and all of 
Livy alone. I read these parts, and more, alone, 
and part of Majora ; but these are sufficient under 
any circumstances. I would read Majora with the 
best possible instruction. And now what more 
shall I say ? My time here begins to look short. 
Our examination takes place one week from next 
Tuesday. Then my studies are closed, and I re- 
turn to my friends, and spend a little time at home. 
August 14, quarterly meeting ; 16-20, camp meet- 
ing ; where I hope, by the grace of God, to shake 
off my shackles ; and I would be glad to see you 
at my father's, August 13, to enjoy all these priv- 
ileges with us. September 1, commencement ; 
rather a boisterous and trying day. However, I 
hope to get my sheepskin, and clear out honorably 
Only till September 6, and then another camp 
meeting ; and then I guess we will shake hands 
again, if not before. Then, Brother Larrabee, I 
may probably go soon to Hallowell, and shut my- 
self up in a school house one year, or two, or more ; 
nobody knows how long, or what comes next — a 
dark vail of mystery ; but, 0 Brother Larrabee, 
if we should preach, and not "preach with the 



LETTER TO REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 129 

Holy Ghost sent down from heaven," our brethren 
would never let a Methodist go to college again, 
and perhaps would not be much to blame. I pray 
God to fill us with primitive Methodism and Holy 
Ghost religion. I feel some solicitude concerning 
the success of Methodism in Maine. But we have 
territory enough, and Methodism is rising and 
spreading. We want some thorough-going pio- 
neers, who will drive into our new settlements, 
form classes, and amalgamate Methodist economy 
with the commencement of the existence of society. 
It seems to me that we have some Samsons and 
Gideons growing up. To your question, "What 
shall we do to make the course of Methodism pros- 
perous among us ? " I cannot better your own 
answer. But now we in Maine cannot depend on 
our own or other brethren ; so we must depend on 
the Lord of the harvest. Perhaps the effect of a 
division of the conference will be salutary. That 
there may be an increase of numbers in our min- 
istry and membership, greater exertions will be 
necessary ; and if they should be made, our con- 
ference may become highly respectable. In rela- 
tion to the variety and exchange of our preachers, 
I think there will be very little difference, since 
we have never had many from the other part of 
the conference. As to men of talents and litera- 
ture, I suspect our prospects for the future are 
hardly surpassed by our brethren in any section 
of the country. There is a growing taste for liter- 



130 RECOLLECTIONS BY REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 

ature among Methodists in Maine, and I hope it 
will increase. I would be as happy to have you 
with me at Hallowell, as you would be to be there ; 
but I presume your suggestion, as to expense, is 
reasonable, though I don't know how it may be. 
My health, as I before hinted, is not very good at 
present, being driven by hard study ; but I think 
I shall be well after going home and taking some 
rest. You will hardly think how quick I have 
written this long scrawl. Remember me to Father 

Clark's family, if you see them ; and tell E I 

want a long letter soon. I hope we shall be de- 
votional, and spiritual ; and so farewell. 
Your affectionate brother, 

Zenas Caldwell. 

After he graduated at college with high rank 
and distinguished honors, he took charge of Hal- 
lowell Academy. He remained at Hallowell but 
one year, when he became principal of the Maine 
Wesley an Seminary. The letter following was 
written to me at Farmington. It treats of matters 
of personal interest to him and to me at that time, 
but of no public interest. I give the letter, how- 
ever, in order to show his excellent spirit. The 
law to which he refers was one of the college 
rules prohibiting students from leaving town, even 
to spend the Sabbath with their friends, during 
term time. As there was then no Methodist church 
in Brunswick, we Methodist students desired oc- 



RECOLLECTIONS BY REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 131 

casionally to spend the Sabbath at Bath with our 
own denomination. His remark about going to 
commencement refers to my having unwisely 
decided, after having nearly ruined my health by 
close study for eighteen months incessantly, to 
continue on the same course through the whole 
college vacation. His advice was for me to pre- 
sent myself for examination at the commencement, 
which precedes the vacation, and then spend the 
vacation in relaxation. 

Hallowell, August 9, 1825 

Dear Brother Larrabee : I must write you a 
few lines. I have been to Brunswick and Bath ; 
visited the president, and conversed with him. 
He gave me almost perfect assurance that the pres- 
ent law should be repealed, or at least amended, 
so that you could go to Bath, or elsewhere, two 
or three times in a term. Found our friends 
in college all well. Now, William, let me tell 
you, you will go in better at commencement than 
at the beginning of the term, after you have had 
the trouble of studying four weeks, which you 
ought to have for relaxation. Now, I advise 
you to come on to camp meeting, William, and 
not return before commencement. I have ascer- 
tained that your board will probably be eleven 
shillings, exclusive of washing, and that I suppose 
ninepence. I do not yet know certain whether 
you must pay your tuition for last year or not, 



132 RECOLLECTIONS BY REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 

but probably shall know before camp meeting. 
Brother Trask says you will be cordially received 
by the pious students in college. 

0 Brother Larrabee, I hope we shall be ready 
for a great blessing at camp meeting. I don't 
know as I have much more to write ; so receive 
a hearty good night from your brother Zenas, 
in haste. 

P. S. Remember me to every body that cares 
any thing about me. 

At the close of his first year at the Maine Wes- 
leyan Seminary, it was judged necessary to employ 
an assistant in the school for the next term, as an 
increase of numbers might be expected during the 
fall term. Propositions were accordingly made to 
me, just then entering my junior year in college, to 
obtain leave of absence for a term, and serve as 
assistant in the seminary. The letter following 
was written in relation to that negotiation. 

Readfield, August 10, 1826. 

Dear Brother Larrabee : I must write you in 
haste. The trustees did not meet to form a quo- 
rum yesterday. We could only say that you must 
be employed on reasonable conditions. The board 
are to assemble on Tuesday, August 29, the day on 
which the camp meeting here commences. You 
must be present, and all things will be made defi- 
nite. For myself, I do not doubt that you will be 



RECOLLECTIONS BY REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 133 



satisfied. You perceive tiat I cannot say any- 
thing now officially. 

My health is now poor, and it would seem doubt- 
ful sometimes what would be the result. I do not 
preach any nowadays, and intend to do the best I 
can. If I should not be better before the next term, 
you can anticipate what will be the consequence. 
But I don't like to think of that. Pray for me, if 
you please. It does not seem necessary that I write 
much for you now, as I expect to see you so soon. 
0, 1 am hypoey some, and plagued some ; but I hope 
to feel better when I go home, and see the folks. 
Shall have many, ten thousand things to tell of. 
I am glad you preach. Hope it will do you good. 
I this moment have an opportunity to send this to 
the post office, and must subscribe myself your 
affectionate brother, 

Zenas Caldwell. 

I accepted the place of assistant, and we were 
accordingly associated in the business of instruc- 
tion during that term. The period was to me one 
of the most pleasant of my life. The school was 
deeply interesting. The greater portion of the 
students consisted of young gentlemen and young 
ladies of mature age. Many of them were good 
common school teachers, who spent the autumnal 
quarter at the Seminary, in order to prepare them- 
selves the better for their winter's campaign of 
teaching. A more excellent class of young per- 
sons I never met. 

12 



13i RECOLLECTIONS BY REY. W. C. LARRABEE. 

Mr. Caldwell was universally beloved. Indeed, 
he was almost adored. He was generally cheer- 
ful in spirit, though, sometimes, so ardent was his 
desire to live for the purpose of being useful, yet 
so poor his prospect for health, he suffered sadly 
in heart. We often took long walks in the lovely 
groves, and by the beautiful lakes that surround 
that charming hill, and talked freely of the past, 
the present, and the future. Our conversation was 
generally on matters connected with the enter- 
prises of the church of which we were members. 
He was then the only Methodist in Maine who 
had received a collegiate education. 

There were but three other Methodist graduates 
in New England, and but five or six others in 
America. His only purpose was to live for the 
church. He could but know his services were 
much needed, especially in Maine. Should he die, 
what could we do ? Where should we find one 
to take his place in the Wesleyan Seminary ? And 
yet he felt a sad presentiment that he must die 
early. Consumption, he feared, was creeping in- 
sidiously on him, about to clutch, with relentless 
grasp, at his vitals. With such desires, and such 
fears, he could but sometimes suffer feelings of 
sadness. His sensitive, poetic temperament con- 
tributed much to foster emotions of tender, pensive 
sentiment. 

All this only added to the interest of his com- 
pany and conversation. I can remember little of 



RECOLLECTIONS BY REV. W. C. LARRABEE. 135 

what was said during the long hours we rambled 
together over the fairy landscapes of that pleasant 
neighborhood. The impressions, however, yet re- 
main indelible on my soul — the impressions made 
by his heavenly temper, his loving kindness, and 
his eloquent words. 

During the winter and summer term of 1826, he 
continued able to perform all the necessary in- 
struction of the classes at the Seminary. In the 
autumn of 1826, I was again called from college 
to assist him. His health was more precarious 
than it had been the preceding year ; but he con- 
tinued to hope, until one morning he came from his 
boarding house to the Seminary, and told me it 
was all over with him. He had been bleeding at 
the lungs, and his last hope of recovery was gone. 
He must leave the school, go home, and die. He 
met the students at evening prayers. In words 
of exquisite tenderness, he bade them an affection- 
ate farewell. He was not again able to leave his 
room, until he was borne home to his father's 
house in Oxford, where he lingered till early win- 
ter, when he died, as the Christian would die, in 
peace, and in hope of a glorious resurrection. 

W. C. Larrabee. 



CHAPTER X. 



His Poetical Remains. 

Mr. Caldwell was gifted with a truly poetic 
spirit. Though he had but slender means, previ- 
ously to entering college, for improving his taste, 
being far removed from books and literary society 
in his rural home ; though engaged all the early 
part of his life, till about twenty years of age, in 
the labors and toils of a New England farm ; yet 
the poetic, as well as the religious, sentiment 
greatly flourished in him. Indeed, there was not 
a little to cherish this spirit in the high hills, the 
cultivated fields, and the grand old forests of his 
native place. These circumstances did something 
to cultivate this talent in young Caldwell ; but 
we should do violence to our judgment and con- 
science if we did not attribute much more to his 
excellent mother, in fostering this bent of the son's 
mind, than to any other cause. Her mind is high- 
ly poetic. Her thoughts are often clothed, espe- 
cially when expressing her religious sentiments, in 
the language of sacred song. Symbol and hy- 
perbole, in their most perfect forms, often drop 
without reflection from her lips. Here, then, in 

(136) 



POETICAL REMAINS. 



137 



the school of the mother, the son was unconscious- 
ly taught to use the language of poetry, and to 
delight in its spirit. 

We will detain the reader no longer than sim- 
ply to remark that the following specimens were 
found among Mr. Caldwell's loose papers, gen- 
erally on small fragments, showing that they had 
never even been copied by him. Many of his best 
pieces are doubtless lost, as may be inferred from 
Dr. Larrabee's remarks above. Indeed, for the 
specimens that follow, we are indebted to the 
careful hand of his brother, Professor M. Cald- 
well, who, after his death, gathered up these 
fragments, and copied them into a book, for 
the satisfaction of the friends and admirers of 
Zenas. It should be remarked that the keen critic 
will easily detect blemishes in these remains ; but 
considering the fact that the writer never revised 
his effusions for the public eye, it is a matter of 
surprise that he is so correct. 

The lines that immediately follow are supposed 
to be his first effort at poetry, and were probably 
written at Hebron Academy, in 1821. 



NOTHING IS PERMANENT. 

Come, gentle Muse, assist a youth to sing 

The fickle fate of every earthly thing. 

I'm not a poet, nor a poet's son ; 

In paths of poetry I've never run ; 

Yet, when I make my first address to thee, 

Thou gentle Muse, shouldst thou but smile on me, 

n* 



NOTHING IS PERMANENT. 



Some latent energy within my breast 
Might rouse to action, and no longer rest, 
But might, perchance, inspire my tongue to sing 
The fickle fate of every earthly thing. 

Nothing is permanent, but all decays ; 

Time, with his scythe, sweeps empires to their graves 

Kingdoms, and kings, and thrones have passed away, 

And all submits to its destructive sway. 

See Babylon and Nineveh arise, 

The first two cities towering to the skies. 

While Babylon o'er Chaldea's land extends 

The hand of empire, and her sons defends, 

Aspiring Nineveh obtains a station 

As the first city of th' Assyrian nation. 

But these were not exempt from God's decree ; 

From Fate's relentless power they could not flee, 

But fell a prey to base Ambition's reign, — 

And now their site is left a barren plain, 

Where scarce a vestige of their former might 

Remains t' attract the wandering traveller's sight; 

And doleful serpents dwell in those abodes 

Where once they worshipped their beloved gods. 

Fortunes like these will evermore betide 

The monuments of human power and pride. 

Jerusalem, the glory of the East, 

For a long time by Deity was blest ; 

Temples and monuments of power and fame 

Rose to perpetuate their country's name. 

But wrath divine has laid their glory low — 

Jehovah's mandate made the mighty bow. 

The Grecian cities and all Rome have risen, 
With bold advances, to the height of heaven. 
Their mighty sceptre o'er the world they swayed, 
Made nations tremble, and then mandate dread. 
But barbarous nations have long since thrown down 
These mighty fabrics prostrate on the ground. 
Their forums, palaces, and temples, all 
Are mouldering ruins, and mere empty walls. 
No longer are their splendid chairs of state 
Filloi up by men illustrious and great ; 



NOTHING IS PERMANENT. 



139 



But timorous beasts and hooting owls are seen 

Where mighty sovereigns and vast crowds have been. 

And such like fortune ever will betide 

The monuments of human power and pride. 

These, and by far too many more to name, 

Have fallen to ruin from the height of fame. 

But not to realms and cities are confined 

The contemplations of the musing mind. 

Wise, mighty men have yielded up their breath, 

And none can flee the chilling blasts of death. 

King Solomon, — to whom was kindly given 

The greatest wisdom e'er bestowed by Heaven ; 

Whose wealth, and power, and fame were so renowned 

That they extended to earth's utmost bound, — 

At last convinced he nought on earth could find 

To quench the thirst of an immortal mind, 

Tired with vexation, vanity, and mirth, 

He gave his flesh to moulder in the earth. 

Great Alexander thought himself a god, 

And in his course deluged the earth in blood. 

At length he ended his career of pride, 

And in the arms of Bacchus meanly died. 

His warlike sceptre bold Napoleon swayed 

O'er countries vast, and various conquests made. 

Alas, Napoleon ! universal sway 

Was ne'er intended by thy God for thee ; 

For by their vigilance thy foes secured 

Thy active body, and thy soul inured 

To solitude and subjugation vile, 

And shut thee up in lone Helena's isle. 

There thou, ambitious man, a grave hast found, 

And thy remains are hid beneath the ground. 

Our Washington, the hero and the sage, 

Loved and revered by every sect and age, 

When he had done the work by God assigned, 

And every virtue in his soul combined, 

Called by a voice from heaven, he fell asleep, 

And left his country and the world to weep. 

Men, thus we see, cannot by great renown 

Secure themselves from Heaven's vindictive frown ; 



140 



ALL IS VANITY. 



Nor can their virtues shield them from that hour 
When Death appears with his resistless power. 
Nature inanimate and all the scene 
Of verdant beauty painted on the green, 
With purling rill and shady grove and bower, 
Must yield their beauty to Time's ruthless power. 

I take my vernal walk, I view the earth, 

See vegetation springing into birth ; 

From insects, beasts, and birds all gloom is fled ; 

But autumn's blasts strike all their beauty dead. 

When bright Aurora's lucid beams display 

The splendid beauties of the rising day, 

We on surrounding objects feast our sight, 

As if forgetful of approaching night. 

Vesper's light breezes whisper on my ear, 

And Philomela's lonely voice I hear : 

Alas ! how soon the gentle breezes pass ! 

And Philomela sinks to dust at last. 

But soon the sun must stop his chariot wheel, 

The moon must turn to blood, the earth must reel ; 

The sea must be consumed, the sky must roll 

In flames together, like a parchment scroll. 

Amidst the great destruction undismayed, 

May we with pleasure lift our joyful head ; 

Like the old Phoenix, from our own ashes rise, 

And dwell in peace forever in the skies. 

Yerses probably written in 1823 : — 

"ALL IS VANITY." 

1. Come, my gay fellow-youth, and beneath this lone willow, 
On the shore of the ocean with me sit a while : 

The dim shades of evening conceal the proud billow ; 
The air is serene, and the zephyrs are mild ; 

The beauties of nature no longer invite us, 

The views of the landscape no longer delight us ; 

And since nought for our wanderings can longer requite US, 
We will talk of ourselves 'neath this lone little tree. 



SPRING. 



141 



2. Rude and -wild were the scenes of my childhood, 

"Where Nature's Creator my being bestowed, 
Artless I strayed o'er the field and the wildwood, 

And oft sat me down where the rivulet flowed. 
The hands of my parents were o'er me extended ; 
From life's pains and woes I was strictly defended ; 
With my sorrows parental affection was blended, 

And sin, was unknown, and no death did I fear. 

3. How oft through young fancy's illusive creation, 

I viewed life's long vista all shaded with flowers ! 
I never conceived man was born to vexation, 

And doomed to find thorns in his most blissful bowers. 
Old Time rolled along, and my mind was maturing ; 
I looked on the world, and it seemed quite alluring, 
And I was still fondly intent on securing 
A permanent source of terrestrial joy. 

4. But while I, thus childish and void of instruction, 

Was dreaming of bliss in perfection below, 
Angels of wrath, fraught with darts of destruction, 

Dealt death, and contagion, and torrents of woe. 
A sight of these scenes soon dispelled the illusion ; 
My purpose was changed, my thoughts Avere confusion ; 
Dame Reason at length wisely drew the conclusion, 

That fortune and pleasure are fickle and vain. 
# # * . # * 



SPRING. 

Thou, vernal Muse, who with celestial fire 
Didst oft the heart of Albion's bard inspire 
To sing the changing seasons as they roll, 
Breathe thy celestial influence to my soul. 
Sweet Spring, let me inhale thy gentle breath, 
To raise my thoughts from nature's general death ; 
To fill my soul with transport while I view 
The varied scenes of beauty, fresh and new, 
Which all th' extended landscape now adorn, 
And hear those songs that wake the silent morn. 



SPRING. 



How late I saw the fleecy snow descend ! 
The clamorous north wind made the forests bend j 
Oblique the sunbeams cast a lingering shade, 
And chilling breezes passed the cheerless glade; 
The flocks and herds stood shivering in the blast, 
And earth and sea in gelid chains were cast. 
Though long and drear was Winter's iron reign, 
Yet rising foliage now adorns the plain ; 
The sylvan hill appears in living green, 
And vernal beauties checker all the scene. 
The air resounds with soft, harmonious lays, 
The groves reecho back these notes of praise. 
The playful lambs from nature's general flame 
Inhale a spark that prompts their sportive game ; 
The earth is oft bedewed with genial showers, 
The air inhales fresh fragrance from the flowers ; 
"With sanguine hope the peasant sows his field, 
And trusts that Heaven a rich reward will yield ; 
The morn is pleasant ; breezes pure and clear 
Our powers enliven and our spirits cheer, 
Drive from our minds nocturnal glooms and fears. 
And fit us for our labors and our cares. 
The sun at midday sheds no sultry rays, 
The lengthened plain no arid hue displays ; 
Each hour glides pleasant on while Nature smiles 
The day declines, and we dismiss our toils ; 
Then when the sun conceals his latest ray, 
Calls in the shades, and shuts the gates of day, — 
When clouds o'er clouds, suspended in the sky, 
Display their varied tints to please the eye, — 
Then vesper breezes whisper round the hills, 

* # # # # 

Invite my genius to improve these hours 
In contemplating scenes forever gone, 
And tracing o'er the various paths I've run. 
Then near some streamlet by the bard admired, 
Where Contemplation oft has sat retired, 
I sit me down. To cold oblivion's shade 
How many of the scenes of life are fled ! 



A FSAGMENT. 



143 



Yet on the faded page I see remain 
Dim traces of my pleasure and my pain. 
Oft as I'm wont from virtue's path to stray, 
I'm warned with care to guard my future way. 
Those sports in which my childhood was employed, 
Those social hours which I have oft enjoyed, 
My fond associates to my heart endeared 
Ere guilt I knew or retribution feared, — 
These I remember. But like vernal flowers, 
"Which disappear ere summer's sultry hours 
Approach, so, as maturer years advance, 
Most of our youthful scenes escape the glance 
Of our perception, and, forever fled, 
Are buried with the nations of the dead. 
But when the vernal hours of life are gone, 
When in the west declines our setting sun, 
When childhood, youth, and age are all arrayed 
In dark oblivion's glooms, whose thickening shade 
Hangs o'er the scenery of the world below, 
And we to unknown realms are called to go, 
Led by some guardian angel, may we soar 
"Where Spring immortal blooms to fade no more. 



A fragment, probably written in 1824. 

Did not the Muses sometimes kindly deign 

Through humbler organs to inspire a lay, 
Despair would chill my hand, and I in vain 

Should strive to tune a string to melody. 
On yonder lonely unfrequented tree 

I'd hang my trembling and discordant lyre, 
Far from the dwellings of the Muses flee, 

Where no angelic breath should fan the fire 
That warms the poet's heart, and wakes the warbling lyre. 

In days of yore, as ancient legends tell, 
In the lone vale the shepherd fed his flock ; 

There with delight Camcena used to dwell, 

And there symphonious sounds the silence broke. 
There, as the humble swain beneath the oak 



BLINDNESS. 



Peaceful reclines to view the spangled skies, 
His harp aerial deities invoke, 
While heavenly notes upon the zephyrs rise, 
And music nerves his hand, and sparkles in his eyes. 

BLINDNESS. 

" The sun to me is dark." 

"The sun to me is dark." My eyes no more 

"With pleasure trace the scenes of nature o'er. 

The choicest jewel nature ere has given 

To me is lost. The dire decree of Heaven 

Has destined me a stranger here to mourn, 

While light to me can never more return. 

Of all those pleasures which from vision flow, 

The sweet fruition I no more shall know ; 

But though my fate is fixed, my eyes are sealed, 

And nought external is to me revealed, 

My intellectual faculties remain, 

And thoughts on former pleasures give me pain. 

A day there was when youthful joys possessed 

My heart, and pleasure wantoned in my breast ; 

Peace o'er my spirit held her tranquil reign, 

And nothing vexed my heart or gave me pain. 

In nature's paths with pleasure oft I ran, 

And contemplated all the wondrous plan 

Of visible creation, which displayed 

Wisdom, benevolence, and every grade 

Of attributes harmonious in that God 

Who made the earth and spread the heavens abroad. 

When bright Aurora, 'midst nocturnal shade, 

Came travelling on, her conquering sceptre swayed 

O'er midnight darkness, and dispelled its power, 

Which reigned unrivalled at the midnight hour ; 

Called Nature from her momentary tomb, 

Perfumed the air, and told the flowers to bloom, 

With hasty steps I hied me to the shore, 

Where waves tumultuous late were wont to roar ; 



BLINDNESS. 



But now the boisterous winds had ceased to rave, 

And as I looked across the eastern wave, 

I saw the powerful king of day arise, 

And take his course majestic up the skies. 

I saw him vertical ; I watched his way ; 

Till soon again he plunged the western sea. 

The rustling leaves, the groves, the sacred bowers, 

"Which bid me spend these consecrated hours 

In contemplating scenes forever gone, 

In tracing o'er the various paths I've run, 

In fixing well for future life my way, 

That I no more from virtue's paths may stray, — 

These are the scenes that once my bosom fired, 

And purest pleasure in my soul inspired. 

I saw young Luna shed her evening ray ; 

I saw her wax, and wane, and pass away ; 

I saw the seasons in their order roll ; 

I saw a God employed about the whole. 

Light, fleecy snow and rattling hail were hurled 

By wintry blasts, and thus invest the world. 

Hoarse, clamorous Boreas, with resistless might, 

Drives down his forces from the mountain height ; 

His hoary legions fierce attack the swain, 

And drive him weary with his little train, 

Around the social hearth, where friendship warm 

Defies pale Envy's blast, chill Slander's storm ; 

There prattling infants, smiling, meet their sire, 

And hail him welcome to the social fire ; 

The beauteous damsels wake the tuneful lyre, 

Or, with nice art, the organ's notes inspire; 

And thus their father's evening hours beguile, 

Till, lost in slumber, he forgets his toil. 

But 0, how short was Winter's iron reign ! 

Anon new fragrant foliage clothes the plain, 

Again the hills assume a living green, 

And smiling beauties checker every scene ; 

From general death life universal springs, 

And vocal Nature strikes her sweetest strings ; 

The air resounds with soft, harmonious lays ; 

The groves rel'cho Nature's songs of praise ; 

13 



BLINDNESS. 



The sportive lambs, from Nature's generous flame, 
Inhale a spark, and play their pretty game. 
But Spring's mild breezes soon must pass away ; — 
The sultry south wind, with malignant sway, 
Assumes the sceptre ; silent Nature mourns ; 
With sunbeams vertical the forest burns ; 
The flocks and herds retire to favorite bowers, 
Beneath the genial shade, to spend these hours ; 
The city's street is vacant ; not a sound 
Is heard through all the social circle round, 
Save that a sudden crash from yonder hill 
16 borne upon the breezes, clear and shrill, 
Where the arch huntsman, with unerring aim, 
Calls from the shady bough his feathered game. 
But when the sun conceals his latest ray, 
A troop of virgins, delicate and gay, 
With flowing tresses, garments white and clear, 
In light procession, through the streets appear. 
I frequently a beauteous fair one viewed, 
Observed her features, air, and attitude ; 
Marked well the faults and beauties of her face, 
Judged of her mental worth and moral grace ; 
Saw traits perchance of an ennobled mind, 
With passions generous, manners all refined ; 
While Nature's nicest efforts, too, combine 
To grace humanity with tints divine. 
Is there a man, by passions fell and base, 
Insensible to every native grace, 
Who Nature's fairest, best production sees, 
Nor feels emotion 'midst such scenes as these ? 
Go, beastly soul, (while generous spirits soar,) 
Go, graze the field — thou art a man no more ! 
But look ; the morn is pleasant and serene ; 
Yet on the lowlands glittering frost is seen ; 
Chill, sluggish breezes pass the lengthened dale ; 
Phoebus rises, but yet with visage pale ; 
Autumn approaches ; and the cheerful green 
Through all the landscape now no more is seen. 
The husbandman, who sowed his field in hope, 
Now reaps for his reward a plenteous crop. 



BLINDNESS. 



Now Nature's voice her precepts sage imparts, 
And gives instruction to reflective hearts. 
The falling leaf points to the gloomy urn, 
And says, " O man, to dust thou must return." 
But stop, my soul, and check this vain desire 
To rove by borrowed light from fancy's fire. 

0 that no borrowed vision I'd employed ! 
It makes more awful still this awful void. 

Whence this sad contrast ? Darkness, black and drear, 

Surrounds me still. No ray of light is here. 

No more in nature's works a God I see, 

For nature's volume now is closed to me. 

The sun and moon dispense their pleasing light, 

But darkness still is here, and constant night. 

No more I walk beneath the shady grove, 

To hear the linnet's varied lays of love ; 

No more I sit beside the purling rills, 

Or roam in contemplation o'er the hills ; 

Nor dare my erring footsteps farther stray 

Than where some guardian hand directs my way. 

No changing seasons — e'en delightful Spring 

To me or pain or pleasure e'er can bring, 

Save when oppressive heat or chilling cold 

Inflames my body or benumbs my soul. 

No sparkling eyes my native passions fire ; 

No blooming cheeks my social soul inspire. 

1 do not need the falling leaf to tell 

That in the gloomy grave I soon must dwell ; 

For if kind Heaven but stop my beating heart, 

I've nought, or little else, with which to part. 

I find no pleasure but in fancy's reign ; 

This quick departs, and contrast swells my pain. 

"When reason rules, dread forms of real woe 

Through all my intellectual powers spontaneous grow. 

When reason rests, my lojosened fancy roves 

Through pleasing scenes of light, through shady groves, 

And nature's fairest prospects. But I wake, 

And think the sun a prison, the shadows break. 

To see the enlightened world I ope my eyes, 

But see no object. All my pleasure dies. 



BLINDNESS. 



And am I lost ? Am I by heaven doomed 

To pass my days on earth, ingulfed in gloom, 

And no benignant power ordained a day 

To break these films, and drive these shades away ? 

Must I go down abandoned to the dust, 

In cold oblivion laid, or meanly cursed, 

In dread annihilation's realms to lie, 

"Wrapped up in nothing to eternity ? 

No. I'm immortal. Though this body die, 

And through a fleeting night in silence lie, 

A morn will come, when Gabriel, from the skies, 

"Will bid my mortal dust immortal rise ; 

Darkness and night to endless day shall yield, 

For one eternal morn shall be revealed ; 

No more the seasons pass revolving by ; 

One endless spring shall be eternity. 

No more I'll thirst to walk terrestrial groves, 

Where chilling winds and noxious vapors move; 

But 'midst those bowers where dwells eternal peace, 

I'll pluck ambrosial fruit from living trees. 

With eyes immortal, clear and perfect sight, 

I'll range unbounded fields of cloudless light ; 

I'll sit me down where crystal rivers flow, 

And drink unmixed joy secure from woe. 

One sun invariable, with beams divine, 

O'er all these happy realms shall ever shine ; 

No breezes chill, no sultry, burning blasts 

O'er these extended plains of bliss can pass ; 

Delusive fancy now no more annoys 

My steadfast soul, or damps my constant joys ; 

But various perfect sources all combine 

To feast my every sense with food divine. 

No change, no death, no sorrow now I fear ; 

To crown my heaven, God himself is here. 



ZENAS CALDWELL. 

Bowdoin College, March 12, 1823. 



RELIGION. 



149 



The following was written at Hallowell, in 
1825 : — 

RELIGION. 

Hail, dearest boon of Heaven, Religion pure ; 
Let me invoke thee at this silent hour. 
Now, thickening shades of evening hover round, 
And, lonely musing, cheerless melancholy 
Permits my thoughts no more to dwell on themes 
Delightful and serene, but bends my mind 
On contemplations deadening to the soul. 
The landscape, fanned by dusky vesper breath, 
Could once delight me, and exhilarate 
My spirits, though conversant with the dead. 
But all is cheerless now, and even the beams 
Of the pale moon come fraught with dubious woe. 
The twinkling light of stars in the mid heaven, 
Which once could write the name of Nature's God 
On Nature's works, delights my soul no more. 
E'en Friendship, once the source of many a joy, 
Deserts me cheerless. But what cause malign 
Has wrought these ills, and changed my peace to pain ? 
Has Fortune merciless consigned me o'er 
To wretchedness and evils positive ? 
Ah, no ; for Death has never marked my friends 
For victims of his wrath, nor does Disease 
Corrode my pleasures and imbitter life. 
The haggard forms of Poverty and Want 
Have ne'er accosted me, nor have I proved 
The slanderer's withering touch to blast my fame. 
But Nature smiles, and bounteous Providence 
Has poured his gifts profusely round my path. 
Then why this void of bliss ? this vacant soul ? 
Must large desires, and thirst for large enjoyment, 
Forever tantalize without relief ? 
Ah, no ; but I have caught a taste of streams 
From purer fountains, flowing from the skies j 
And if I lose this relish, Earth may smile, 
And Wealth her richest treasures may employ, 
Honor may give her choicest diadem, 

13 * 



150 



A PORTRAIT. 



Friendship may feed me with her boasted sweets, 

The world its best donations may present, 

And yet I'm wretched. Then come, Religion pure, 

And lead me onward to that blissful world 

Which to these streams gives rise ; and onward still 

Direct me till the heavenly gates unbarred 

I enter, and the full fruition know. 

* 

The following was written in 1826, and is sup- 
posed to be his last poetical production : — 

A PORTRAIT OF M*** 

'Twas a strange place ; but there I heard a note 
Of plaintive sorrow ; and I sat me down. 
But not as was the place, so was the voice. 
The voice — it was not strange ; for I before 
Had heard it oft, but ne'er in strains like these. 
For I had seen her when she used to smile 
Spontaneous, as the rose its blush displays. 
But now she pensive sighed, and she sighed thus : — - 

" I once was happy ; and the vernal morn 
Of youthful life inspirited my heart, 
And made me hope that I was born for bliss, 
x ne'er had seen the thickening tempest frown, 
And thunderbolts had never fallen around me ; 
I was a stranger to the storms of life. 
'Tis true, I knew the morning oft had clouds, 
And the sun, truly, did not always shine. 
Parental kindness often had portrayed 
The chilling wintry frosts of age; and death — 
The cold dark night of death — had reached my ear : 
But those I feared not — this I learned to love ; 
For I had learned in infancy to pray, 
And in my childhood found my way to heaven ; 
And so I knew that soon to wintry age 
A spring forever blooming would succeed ; 
And knew that soon, through the dark shades of death, 
Would burst the splendor of eternal day. 
My themes of thought were pious, and when morn 



A PORTRAIT. 



Was rising, and dispelling fast the shades 

From western hills, I mingled with the song 

Of the sweet bird of paradise, and raised 

My notes of praise to Him that made the morn. 

I did not know the war of passions, for my soul 

"Was early tuned by grace to harmony. 

I did not think that this fair world, designed 

For men and angels, e'er could be the abode 

Of hellish passions and impure desires. 

Hence I was artless, and I did not dream 

That men could ever basely condescend 

To wear dissimulation's cursed mask 

Till trial has unveiled the mystery ; 

For as I was I thought that others were. 

I now have learned that life's eventful day 

Is fraught with storms, and hidden moral ills 

Imbitter life, and shade the earth with gloom, 

A train of furies dwells above the ground, 

And many a fair, imposing mask conceals 

A heart envenomed, and by vice prepared 

To use the hand of artless Innocence 

To plunge the dagger in her own /air breast. 

I used to claim affinity with heaven, 

And called the heavenly orbs my Father's work. 

If now I look to heaven, the pensive light 

Of stars and rolling planets writes the name 

Of Nature's God on Nature's works in vain. 

Ah, heaven-born piety on earth may die ! 

But shall despair freeze up my youthful heart ? 

And is all lost ? " 

She raised her downcast eye 
As if to supplicate a boon from Heaven — 
From Heaven offended ; and she saw me stand 
Attent and motionless ; and such a train 
Of thoughts on days departed rushed at once 
Upon her soul that she forgot to pray. 
She smiled, but ne'er a smile had less of joy : 
'Twas not her youthful smile ; 'twas not the light 
Of a bright, blushing morning. Hast thou seen 
The eastern sky, wearing portentous robes, 
When Phoebus, rising, sent his earliest beams 



152 A PORTRAIT. 

To cheer the earth ? and hast thou seen these beams, 

By falling rain-drops thrown in several rays, 

Reflected on our sight with various hues, 

And boding future ill ? — Such was her smile. 

The early radiance of her countenance 

Was not extinguished quite ; but in her eyes, 

Suffused in tears, appeared expressive traits 

Of joys departed, present wretchedness, 

And chilling fears of still impending woe. 

Here the manuscript closed, as if unfinished, and 
on a separate fragment of paper were the follow- 
ing lines : — 

Be mute my tongue in pining solitude, 

My spirit sink by moping melancholy, 

Jove's deadliest thunders hurl me to oblivion, 

Or Neptune's trident 'neath the waters plunge me, 

Rather than ever should a blameless spirit 

Curse by my side her wretched destiny. 



I 



CHAPTER XL 
Prose Remains. 

In addition to the prose remains already pre- 
sented, we will add an address delivered "before 
the Theological Society of Bowdoin College, on 
" The general influence of religion on mankind." 
Also, a short essay on " Free agency, the ground 
of human accountability." 

The following oration was pronounced at the 
anniversary of the Theological Society, of which 
Mr. Caldwell was president during his senior 
year. 

THE GENERAL INFLUENCE OF RELIGION ON MAN- 
KIND. 

By an established law of our nature, we are led 
to refer the production of every thing which we 
behold to an efficient cause. The order of the 
heavenly bodies, the beauty and variety exhibited 
in the animal and vegetable creation, and all the 

natural phenomena in the universe, conspire to 

(153) 



154 MORAL GOVERNMENT IMPERFECT. 



establish the existence of a Creator. Hence phi- 
losophers have often, and with much propriety, 
doubted whether a man of common understanding 
can be an atheist. Nor is it much more difficult 
for unassisted reason to discover the necessity of 
the general dominion of the divine agency, and 
of a future state of existence. To the Creator of 
all things we necessarily ascribe absolute perfec- 
tion, and the right of universal government, and, 
consequently, suppose he will exercise a perfect 
moral government. But all the schemes that have 
been projected and carried into execution in the 
progress of society for the advancement of happi- 
ness and the promotion of justice among mankind 
have fallen far short of perfection. Numerous 
religious systems, diversified philosophical specu- 
lations, various moral codes, and a series of politi- 
cal investigations, have all been engaged in for this 
purpose ; and although by these means the state 
of society has been much improved, yet a perfect 
system of moral government has never been intro- 
duced. But in numerous instances almost the 
reverse of this has obtained. In purely prov- 
idential dispensations, where no visible agency is 
engaged in determining the fortunes of men, the 
virtuous are often followed with disease, poverty, 
and general adversity, while the path of the vi- 
cious is marked with liberal profusion, and health 
and prosperity crown their lives. 

Some, even in consequence of their virtue, are 



MORAL GOVERNMENT IMPERFECT. 155 



doomed to prison and banishment by ambitious 
oppressors, and others are subjected to perpetual 
slavery under the lash of cruel taskmasters. If 
this inequality in the dispensation of natural good 
and evil, and all the woes produced by injustice 
and oppression were permitted to exist without 
ultimate redress, men would be lost in conjecture as 
to the end of their existence ; and if they allowed 
the being, would question the benevolence, of the 
Deity. But reason denies this defect in the char- 
acter of God, and thus we may easily draw the 
conclusion that there is a future state of existence, 
where, under a perfect moral government, a just 
retribution will be given. From this we may, by 
an easy deduction of reason, argue for the immor- 
tality of the soul ; since, if it survives the body, 
there are no arguments to prove its dissolution. 
But although men necessarily imbibe some notions 
of religion, and may draw many just conclusions, 
yet human reason has never been sufficient to de- 
vise a just system of religion, and the grossest 
absurdities have stamped with deformity all reli- 
gions, excepting that which was devised in heaven. 
A variety of important distinctions has marked 
the different systems of religion that have existed. 
Some have enjoined the worship of one God, while 
others have multiplied gods almost infinitely. 
Some have believed in visible, and others in invis- 
ible gods. Some have paid their worship directly 
to the Deity, while others have worshipped him 



156 



RELIGION UNIVERSAL. 



through the medium of images and other represen- 
tations. Some religions have pushed their prog- 
ress amidst the din of war, with their standards 
stained in human blood, while others have been 
borne on the wings of peace. All religions, how- 
ever, have embraced concerns of the utmost im- 
portance, since they have involved the interests of 
the future world, generally thought to be eternal. 
We might therefore, without experience, conclude, 
from the slightest consideration, that religion 
would exert an unbounded influence, not only on 
the characters of individuals, but on the state of 
society in general. Accordingly, legislators and 
rulers have often found it the most powerful in- 
strument of civil policy ; and the history of almost 
every country affords numerous instances of its 
being an excellent ally to the power of the civil 
magistrate, and the most .successful promoter of 
the dangerous designs of rivals and usurpers. In- 
deed, religion is necessary to the existence of gov- 
ernment ; since, without it, oaths, contracts, and 
moral obligation could have no important sanc- 
tion. Religion, being thus recommended by these 
and many other considerations, has been embraced 
under some form by every nation, and its effects 
have become almost universal. To this general 
influence of religion among mankind we shall give 
our attention on the present occasion ; and very 
little that is new or particularly interesting can 
be expected, since all subjects of this kind have 



DIFFERENT SYSTEMS OF RELIGION. 157 



long since been explored by men of the most 
exalted talents. 

Religion, in its particular or more limited ac- 
ceptation, implies that special system of faith and 
worship which obtains in a particular age, sect, or 
country. But by religion, as we now intend to use 
it, is implied that principle which influences men 
by the dread of evil, or the hope of reward, from 
unknown and invisible causes, whether the good 
or evil be expected to take place in this world or 
another. And in this general sense of the term, 
it comprehends enthusiasm, superstition, and every 
other species of false as well as true religion. Our 
present purpose will be best answered by contem- 
plating the different systems of religion, as they 
are embraced under the general divisions, pagan- 
ism, Mahometanism, Judaism, and Christianity. 
Atheists, who deny all religion, have no claim to 
our attention. Deists, who disclaim all revealed 
religion, and boast of their reason, may justly be 
left among those on whom the light of revelation 
has never shone, to fashion their religion accord- 
ing to the pagan mould. A large proportion of 
mankind is at present enveloped in the darkness 
of pagan superstition ; and by first considering this 
and the influence of Mahometanism, we may be the 
better prepared to admire the superiority of that 
religion which we profess to believe. Although 
some have believed that all religious principles 
were derived from divine revelation, yet some of 
14 



158 



PAGANISM. 



the more degraded systems present no claims to 
divine origin, and are probably merely the produc- 
tions of men. Noble and consistent views of the 
divine character have always been productive of 
salutary consequences ; but the primary influence 
of paganism is to give degraded notions of the 
Deity ; and pagan gods have been found in every 
order of creation, from the heavenly luminaries 
down to inanimate matter. Worship has often been 
paid by men to their ancestors, to princes, heroes, 
&c, since the days of Ninus, who introduced this 
practice. Other nations have chosen their gods 
from the lowest orders of creation ; and although 
the first founders of idolatry probably worshipped 
idols as the representatives of the gods, yet it is 
certain that whole nations have since regarded them 
as objects of supreme adoration, and as the best 
models of perfection. From these the dignity even 
of human nature could be but poorly apprehended, 
and men would hardly aspire to any thing higher 
than a brutal existence ; for if men emulous of 
greatness would aspire to be godlike, their best 
models of imitation were but cats, and serpents, 
and crocodiles. Some heathen gods were qualified 
in a much higher degree. The Greek and Roman 
deities were clothed with power, and had a resi- 
dence peculiar to immortals. They dispensed 
favors to their worshippers, but denounced ven- 
geance against their enemies. But reason could 
never discover the most amiable perfections of 



EVIL INFLUENCE OF PAGANISM. 



159 



the divine nature. Moral perfections were over- 
looked by the heathen world in general, and the 
grossest vices that were ever prohibited by laws 
among men were perpetrated by the heathen deities. 
In fine, to be an imitator of the gods, a man must be 
a monster in depravity. Hence have arisen those 
barbarous practices which have continued among 
savages to the present day. But with these 
we are already acquainted. The wisest of the 
pagan philosophers did not counteract the vices 
of their religion. A fair specimen of their best 
moral codes is afforded in a maxim of one of 
the wise men of Greece : " Be kind to your 
friends, and revenge yourself on your enemies. " 
Some virtues were assiduously cultivated and even 
deified by the pagans. The Romans held an oath 
sacred, and believed the violation of it brought 
down the wrath of heaven, and subjected them to 
the displeasure of the gods ; and so sacred was 
their regard to fidelity, that their magistrates con- 
fidently committed the most important decisions 
to the faith of the parties. Many of the pagans 
believed the doctrine of the immortality of the 
soul ; but their notions concerning it were so 
various and indefinite, that they produced no sal- 
utary influence on their moral conduct in general. 
Though under the influence of paganism, the stan- 
dard of morality was always low ; yet some sys- 
tems contain moral laws far more elevated than 
others ; and some philosophers have presented mo- 



160 INFLUENCE OF MAHOMETANISM. 

tives to their followers eminently calculated to 
secure attention to their moral requirements. Of 
these, Confucius, the celebrated Chinese philos- 
opher, may be taken as an example. He taught 
that man was composed of two principles — the 
one disposed to ascend to a superior region, the 
other to descend to the earth. On the separation 
of these, the virtuous ascend to the abodes of their 
families and friends, and with them enjoy the high- 
est conceivable felicity, while the vicious are de- 
barred from their society, and excluded from all 
their sources of pleasure. The happy effects of 
the doctrines of Confucius will be obvious, when 
contrasted with those of his Epicurean successors, 
which have rendered the Chinese false, fraudulent, 
and degraded. 

That Mahoraetanism should have been produc- 
tive of important consequences among mankind 
is not remarkable when we consider its charac- 
ter, together with that of its founder. Being poor 
and illiterate, but descended of opulent ancestors, 
Mahomet appears to have been fired by ambition 
to make an extraordinary effort to raise himself 
to notice among mankind. Having had occasion 
to travel extensively through the countries of the 
East, he acquired general information sufficient to 
qualify him to establish a religion which was in- 
strumental in subduing whole nations, altering 
ancient governments, and introducing a new or- 
der of affairs h to the world. 



INFLUENCE OF MAHOMETANISM. 161 

Yarious religious notions at that time divided 
the Eastern nations. The mind of Mahomet was 
well fitted to devise measures adapted to all ex- 
igencies. Hence he adopted a system which was 
a medley of the pagan, Jewish, and Christian re- 
ligions, and he thought that, by combining the 
most important doctrines of all former religions, 
he could embrace all mankind. The best and 
most consistent doctrines of Mahomet were bor- 
rowed from the Jews and Christians, while his 
Elysian Fields and sensual paradise were from the 
pagans. He made the most sacred professions of 
personal intercourse with the Deity, by whom the 
angel Gabriel was commissioned to deliver the 
Koran to him leaf by leaf. Although many of his 
pretensions were perfectly ridiculous, yet the pre- 
vailing ignorance and gross moral darkness of the 
age in which he lived are sufficient to account for 
the reception of his doctrines, and the general suc- 
cess that attended him. When we consider the 
habits and dispositions of the Arabians, and inhab- 
itants of the other Oriental countries, it is obvi-. 
ous that there was much involved in the religion 
of Mahomet that was eminently calculated to en- 
gage their attention, and allure them to action. 
He taught them to believe that, by embracing his 
religion, and adhering to his interests, they se- 
cured to themselves an inheritance in a region 
abounding with shady groves, purling streams, 
murmuring rivulets, and delicious fruits — where 
14 * 



162 MAHOMETANISM. 

dwelt celestial females of angelic forms, whose 
eyes were sparkling and resplendent, and whose 
countenances would shed all the glories of the 
rainbow. His foes, on the other hand, and those 
who rejected his religion, were doomed to tor- 
ments the most repugnant and forbidding. Such 
representations would seem adapted to engage 
them all in the religion of their prophet. 

But the experience of all ages has proved that 
men are usually but lightly affected by the antici- 
pation of the future. They will not often relin- 
quish present pleasures for the purpose of obtaining 
subsequent felicity. Thus it was with the Arabi- 
ans. Mahomet labored long, and almost in vain, 
to establish his religion on the principles of peace. 
Still there was one resort. He well knew the dis- 
position of these Ishmaelites, — that their hand was 
against every man, — and for this reason, he as- 
sumed the sword as the key to heaven and hell. 
He proclaimed eternal life to all who should die 
in the field of battle ; he assured them that the 
loss of limbs should be supplied with the wings 
of angels. This was effectual. Thousands flocked 
to his standard on every side. War was their 
element. By arts and arms, Mahomet spread his 
delusion and extended his conquests over Arabia, 
Syria, Egypt, and Persia, and finally over a great 
proportion of Europe, Asia, and Africa. This re- 
ligion has continued a scourge to the church of 
Christ more than one thousand years; and the 



JUDAISM. 



163 



conquests of the Komans during eight centuries 
were not equal to those of the Mahometans in 
eighty years. 

Of all the people on the earth, there are none to 
whom the attributes of God have been so clearly 
exhibited as to the Hebrew nation. They were 
convinced of his power by his miracles in Egypt, 
and by their deliverance from servitude ; of his 
goodness and wisdom by his compliance with 
their infirmities, and employing the most likely 
means to render them moral ; and of his justice 
by his rewarding the observance and punishing 
the violation of his laws even in this life. In 
early ages of the world, when men's understand- 
ings were unaccustomed to abstruse reasonings, 
such extraordinary exertions of the divine attri- 
butes were necessary, since even in refined ages 
it required attention and labor to deduce these 
attributes either from causes or effects. The uni- 
form worship of one God has always been pecu- 
liarly favorable to the promotion of public felicity. 
This was, at that day, characteristic of Judaism, 
and was the trait that principally distinguished it 
from all ather religious systems. Every precept, 
prohibition, rite, and custom of the Israelites, their 
times and places of worship, and their ministers 
of religion, were all calculated to abolish idolatry, 
and produce a veneration for God and his wor- 
ship. The theocratical form of government and 
temporal sanctions established among the He- 



164 



JUDAISM. 



brews tended to remove superstition and preserve 
them from the worship of idols. Their Jehovah 
was invested with a double authority, — of God 
and civil magistrate, — and they who refused to 
serve him as God thought themselves bound to 
obey him as king. 

Public happiness and prosperity were also pro- 
moted by the political laws of Moses, which have 
afforded models for the imitation of the wisest 
legislators through all succeeding ages. The 
proper relations between parents and children, 
masters and servants, the rich and the poor, and 
the different orders of society, were regarded, and 
laws were established regulating usury and servi- 
tude, and prohibiting incestuous marriages, so com- 
mon in the countries of the East. The Jews were 
forbidden to engage in war, but for self-defence 
and to obtain satisfaction for injuries. No injured 
sovereign could, in a hostile manner, enter the do- 
minions of an enemy until restitution had been 
refused, and then all plunder and unnecessary 
havoc was prohibited. How humane was the insti- 
tution of the Sabbatical year, which emancipated 
slaves, and the J ubilee, which restored proprietors 
to their alienated possessions ! In the Mosaic code 
there are many pressing exhortations to relieve 
the poor, the stranger, the fatherless, and widow, 
not to be paralleled in the history of other an- 
cient nations. 

In fine, Judaism was worthy to be the immediate 



CHRISTIANITY. 



165 



precursor of Christianity, and to open the way for 
the introduction of that character into the world 
whose appearance had been predicted by ancient 
prophets, and who propagated a religion which sup- 
planted not only Judaism, but all other religions 
where it has obtained access. The character of 
Jesus Christ and his religion will ever be a most 
interesting subject of contemplation ; but in vain 
should we attempt to describe it ; nor to us is 
it necessary. The effects of Christianity deserve 
our attention. The doctrines of this religion were 
propagated publicly, disseminated extensively, and 
established permanently. Every thing combined 
to crush the Christian faith, which aimed at the 
subversion of heathenism and idolatry, and the 
abrogation of the Jewish law. Hence it encoun- 
tered hosts of enemies among Jews and heathens, 
who found their passions and prejudices, honor, 
interest, and habits all assailed by it. Although 
its advocates were at first destitute of influence, 
and unsupported by the civil arm, no opposition 
raised against them was successful. After the pas- 
sion of our Savior, the progress of his religion 
was astonishingly rapid. On the fiftieth day after 
this event, three thousand were converted in Jeru- 
salem by a single sermon of one of the apostles ; 
and a short time after five thousand were assem- 
bled at once. In less than ten years the disciples 
were become so numerous at Jerusalem and in the 
country that they were objects of jealousy and 



166 PROGRESS OF CHRISTIANITY. 



alarm to Herod. About this time, Christianity 
progressed beyond the Jews and devout Gentiles, 
and was preached to the idolatrous nations. 

Barnabas and Paul were particularly fitted for 
this work, being both from Gentile countries ; and 
in it they, together with the other apostles, ar- 
dently engaged. By them the gospel was soon 
preached from Jerusalem to Illyricum, in jEthio- 
pia and India, and many of the countries of Asia. 
In process of time, it also went through much of 
Europe and Africa. In the third century, Chris- 
tians were multiplied in the camp, the senate, and 
the palace, in the towns, country, and islands, and 
were so numerous that the revenues of many hea- 
then temples were ruined. In the language of 
Tertullian, Christians were so numerous in the 
Roman empire, that if they had retired to another 
country they would have left the Romans only a 
frightful solitude. Christianity was propagated 
in the Augustan age, noted for peace, science, 
arts, and refinement. The Greek language, being 
generally known, afforded a convenient medium 
of general dissemination. Its early triumphs 
were in the heart of Greece, the nursery of learn- 
ing and the polite arts. Churches were formed 
in Corinth, Ephesus, Berea, Thessalonica, and 
Philippi. Many of the early converts to Chris- 
tianity were men remarkable for their genius, 
education, and fortune, and some of them inter- 
ested, by offices and emoluments, in the continu- 



INFLUENCE OP CHRISTIANITY. 167 

ance of Judaism or paganism. Notwithstanding 
the abuses of Christianity, it is acknowledged by 
all, even infidels, that the moral requirements of 
the gospel are superlatively excellent. They uni- 
versally accord with right reason, and wherever 
they are properly regarded, they produce the 
most salutary consequences among men. Chris- 
tianity embraces the acknowledged excellences 
of other religions, and avoids their evils. One 
of its most obvious characteristics is, that it in- 
culcates peace on earth and good will to men. 
Were its principles universally imbibed in the 
spirit of them, peace would as universally prevail, 
and wars would cease to the ends of the world. 
" All men,' ; says Tertullian, " love their friends ; 
but it is peculiar to Christians to love their ene- 
mies, to return kindness for hatred, and to pray 
that their enemies might obtain mercy from God. ;? 

The influence of Christianity upon slavery ac- 
cords well with its general character. It has, in 
many instances, been the means of abolishing 
slavery ; and, in others, of meliorating the con- 
dition of slaves, in consequence of its raising 
men's ideas of the importance of the human spe- 
cies. " It is a memorable fact," says one author, 
" that after the introduction of Christianity in the 
Roman empire, every law which was made relating 
to slaves was in their favor, till at last all the sub- 
jects of the empire were reckoned equally free." 
While we blush under the consideration that the 



168 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 



fields of Columbia are tilled by the hands and 
stained by the blood of slaves, we anticipate a 
final period to this inhuman practice, since our 
civil institutions are aiming at its termination, and 
a great part of the Christian community stand 
boldly opposed to it, while they debar from any, 
even the least, ecclesiastical office, every slave- 
holder whom the civil laws will permit to eman- 
cipate his slaves. The cultivation of liberal prin- 
ciples in relation to national government has been 
much promoted by Christianity, to which despot- 
ism and oppression are totally repugnant. Ac- 
cording to Mr. Hume, the precious sparks of liber- 
ty were kindled and preserved by the Puritans in 
England, and to this sect the English owe all the 
freedom of their constitution. But the general 
influence of Christianity on the human character 
will be best learned by contrasting the moral and 
political state of Christian nations with that of 
those under the influence of paganism or Mahom- 
etanism, where the light of the gospel has never 
shone. And the corrections of many abuses of 
Christianity in modern times throughout Chris- 
tendom, and the astonishing exertions recently 
made for the dissemination of its principles, give 
us reason to hope that its benign influence will 
soon become universal. 

Having contemplated the general character and 
effects of the different religions, we may now 
briefly notice some of the more important of their 



EFFECTS OF IDOLATRY. 169 

consequences, which are indirect, and not neces- 
sarily connected with their existence. Of those 
connected with paganism, the influence of oracles 
seems to have been most remarkable. Men have 
always had a propensity to explore futurity, and 
think the gods, from their omniscience, may make 
it well known to them. The institution of oracles 
has seemed to gratify their curiosity, and proved 
a source of immense wealth, as well as authority 
and influence, to those who had the command of 
them. All idolatrous nations have had their ora- 
cles, and their effects on mankind have been 
astonishing. They were frequently consulted with 
confidence in concerns foreign and domestic, and 
often determined the destinies of nations. There 
was a time when the gods were solemnly consult- 
ed in marriage ; but from a view of society at 
present, we are led to the conclusion that the gods 
and the graces are strangely neglected, and their 
temples are almost forsaken. Nor were omens 
less important in their effects than oracles. The 
common motions of beasts and birds, and even the 
capricious appetites or harmless cries of chickens 
could hush the thunders of war, quell the roaring 
of battles, and reduce contending nations to peace. 
Indeed, it was an established custom among the 
Romans, in almost every enterprise, civil or milita- 
ry, to draw presages of the event from the flight or 
chirping of birds, the entrails of beasts, the answers 
of oracles, and the interpretation of dreams and 
15 



170 EFFECTS OF MAHOMETANISM. 

prodigies. Magistrates were deposed, and public 
assemblies were adjourned or dissolved, when 
thunder and lightning came from the left. An 
example of this kind is related by Livy. In the 
tenth year of the siege of the city of Veii the Ro- 
man soldiers, despairing of success, importunately 
desired to raise the siege and return home. But 
the Alban Lake having overflowed, they were 
easily prevailed on to persist in the siege, as an 
oracle had declared that the city of Yeii would be 
taken the very year in which that lake overflowed. 

In the religion of Mahomet, provision seems to 
have been directly made for most of the evils of 
which it was productive. But those resulting from 
the doctrine of absolute predestination, although 
they seem to have been a natural consequence, were 
not a necessary one, since many others who have 
believed it have not been led by it to a course of 
conduct so destructive. This doctrine of the Ko- 
ran has produced the most shocking desolation 
where it has been believed. This prophet having 
told his followers that God had numbered their 
days and predestinated their fate, they esteem it 
impious to try to save life ; nor have they till late- 
ly been prevailed on in Constantinople and other 
parts of the Ottoman empire to employ any reme- 
dy against the plague ; and though some have 
been so wise as to prefer experience and common 
gense to the maxims of their prophet, yet, had it 
npt been for the continual influx of foreigners to 



EFFECTS OF MAHOMET ANISM. 171 

supply their population, their country would long 
since have become almost desolate. But Mahom- 
etanism has been distinguished by one charac- 
teristic which has produced extensive woes, and 
those of a kind the most revolting to a benevolent 
mind. I mean those which have arisen from the 
common tradition that females shall never enter 
paradise. From this they naturally suppose that 
females are regarded by Heaven with indifference 
or disgust ; and, though they expect in paradise to 
enjoy the society of females who are the highest 
models of beauty, yet they are beings of a superior 
order, while those with whom they live on earth 
will be doomed to oblivion or sentenced to an in- 
fernal region. They have, for these reasons, been 
considered menial, and subjected to all those 
miseries and privations which have been the lot 
of females in all Mahometan countries. We al- 
most instinctively execrate the character of him 
who could pronounce sentence of degradation on 
those whom Heaven has arrayed more delicately 
and marked to be the solace of our lives, and pe- 
culiarly the objects of our care and affections ; and 
we feel a kind of exultation in the anticipation 
of a day when these, so much degraded, shall be 
raised far above their vile oppressors. 

The effects of Judaism, collateral and remote, 
as well as direct and immediate, are related at 
length in Scripture, and do not need a descrip- 
tion. But we cannot be denied a few moments' 



172 



EFFECTS OF CHRISTIANITY. 



consideration of its relation to the pagan philoso- 
phy. Modern philosophers often admire the sub- 
lime speculations of Socrates, Plato, and other pa- 
gan philosophers ; and to us it must be pleasing to 
learn that the Hebrew Scriptures which we possess 
were the source of all their most important doc- 
trines. Besides the probability of their being 
known to the pagans from their acquaintance in 
Egypt, where the Israelites were so long in servi- 
tude, we have testimony of the highest authority 
that they were read by many of the ancient philos- 
ophers ; and this is corroborated by the acknowl- 
edgment of some of them. Others travelled 
among the Jews, and even submitted to circum- 
cision that they might be initiated into their sa- 
cred rites. They were accused of plagiarism ; nor 
need we wonder, when we compare their most 
important doctrines with the Jewish Scriptures. 

Among the remote effects of Christianity, those 
which fall most obviously under our notice are 
those which have arisen from its abuse. Christi- 
anity was introduced, and established, and sub- 
sisted three hundred years, without any favor or 
protection from the governing powers. But when 
the church degenerated, and Papal supremacy ob- 
tained, they found that the former spiritual weap- 
ons of the church were not sufficient to keep men 
in a blind subjection to the pope. They learned 
from the heathen emperors the art of persecution, 
and proceeded to sentence heretics to capital pun- 



EFFECTS OF CHRISTIANITY. 173 

ishments. In the fourth Council of Lateran, A. D. 
1215, a decree was obtained that all heretics should 
be delivered over to the civil magistrate to be 
burned, Here was the spring of that anti- Christian 
tyranny and oppression -of the consciences of men 
which has since been attended with a sea of Chris- 
tian blood that has deeply stained the historical 
page of persecution. But conscience cannot be 
confined by fines and imprisonments, or by fire and 
fagot. All attempts of this kind only serve to 
make men hypocrites, and are deservedly branded 
with the name of persecutions. It is supposed that 
three hundred thousand lives have been sacrificed 
to the Papal power. Through its influence several 
of the most powerful kingdoms of Europe have 
been agitated for ages. Of these, Great Britain 
and France afford melancholy examples. History 
abounds with information on this subject. In the 
Irish massacre, forty or fifty thousand persons per- 
ished in a few days by the infliction of the most 
refined sufferings of every kind, till the tumult 
was assuaged by the interposition of the victo- 
rious and terrible Oliver Cromwell. Seventy 
thousand persons were victims of the massacre at 
Paris, in France, on the 24th of August, 1572 ; 
and in thirty years, one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand suffered death under the tortures of the 
Inquisition. The power of the pope finally be- 
came so great, that sovereigns were subjected to 
his spiritual jurisdiction, and in one instance wo 
15 * 



174 EFFECTS OF THE CRUSADES. 

■ 

might see a king excommunicated, deprived of his 
crown, and opposed by an insurrection of twenty 
thousand men, headed by a churchman and directed 
by a monk. But the Papists, in their turn, have 
suffered under the dominion of the Protestants, 
who, when the power returned into their hands, 
were too much inclined to use it as an engine of 
cruelty. Thus has the principle of intolerance 
been handed down from Papists to Protestants, 
and from Protestants to Puritans, till the forests of 
America have echoed the cries of innocent victims 
of persecution, and her soil has been stained with 
their blood. But persecution was never the legit- 
imate offspring of Christianity, but was produced 
by an excess of enthusiasm, and was nurtured by 
the spirit of the times. 

The Crusades may properly be noticed here, 
since they appear to have been prompted by the 
spirit of persecution, and to have partaken of its 
nature. In the first of these astonishing monu- 
ments of human folly, which wasted the population 
of Europe, and drained the coffers of many nations, 
the monarchs of nine different kingdoms were en- 
gaged. However absurd these undertakings may 
have been, they evidently did much in improving 
the state of society at that time. During the two 
centuries of the crusades, the progress of civiliza- 
tion and literature was very rapid. They effected 
the decay of the feudal system, and opened an in- 
tercourse between Constantinople and Italy, which 



INFLUENCE OP MONASTICISM. 175 



enriched several of the states of Italy, and diffused 
a knowledge of the Latin tongue, and several of 
the fathers and classics were honored with a Greek 
version. Soon after the commencement of the 
crusades, says, one author, we see greater splen- 
dor in the courts of princes, greater pomp in the 
public ceremonies, a more refined taste in pleas- 
ure and amusements, with a more romantic spirit 
of enterprise spreading gradually over Europe ; 
and to these wild expeditions, the effect of su- 
perstition and folly, we owe the first gleams of 
light which tended to dispel barbarity and igno- 
rance. But these beneficial effects were confined 
to the first nine crusades. Others were afterwards 
undertaken, as one of the Saxons against the pa- 
gans of the north, whom they determined to con- 
vert or extirpate, and another of Pope Martin 
V., against the Wicklififites, and some others, none 
of which produced any thing better than ruin and 
desolation. 

We ought not to pass in silence over monastic 
institutions, since their influence has been so ex- 
tensive. Some of the finest countries of Europe 
have long been oppressed under these as an intol- 
erable burden, of which Italy affords a melancholy 
example. There the march of science and public 
improvement was formerly rapid. In Italy have 
arisen men of the greatest literary eminence ; and 
this country has produced more learned women than 
any other part of Europe, among whom their univer- 



176 ORIGIN OF WITCHCRAFT. 

sities have found some able professors. But the ex- 
pense of these monastic institutions has been so great 
in Papal countries, as almost to destroy their com- 
merce, to check the progress of business, and super- 
sede their former attention to literature, science, 
and public improvements. The Papal power thus 
gaining strength by general ignorance and indi- 
gence, has successfully opposed civil and literary 
reform, and genius has been doomed to struggle 
with numerous impediments. We can hardly re- 
press the wish that Napoleon had been permitted 
to effect his purpose of abolishing all these insti- 
tutions, reforming these universities, and estab- 
lishing female schools. Celibacy and monastic 
institutions owe their origin to excesses of religion 
and austerity in the primitive Christians ; and, says 
one author, it would be as absurd to impute these 
excesses to the gospel as to ascribe the 'errors of 
men and the abuses of reason to the rational fac- 
ulty duly cultivated and improved. 

We have already noticed the ancient pagan 
doctrine of personal intercourse between men and 
demons ; and a similar notion, in more modern 
times, seems to have been the source from which 
have proceeded all the horrors of modern witch- 
craft. Strange as it may seem, on this subject the 
opinions of philosophers and divines have been 
divided. 

Witchcraft prevailed in England and Scotland 
in the 16th century, so as to attract the attention 



EFFECTS OF WITCHCEAFT. 



177 



of the government under Henry VIII. In the 
reign of Queen Elizabeth, calamities of this kind 
were thus expressed : " Witches cause that the 
people's color fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their 
speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft, and 
they pine away even unto death." Since that time, 
several countries have felt the dire effects of their 
malevolence. Their power has in some instances 
been so great, that many of the poor and ignorant 
have been degraded to beasts of burden. Witches 
have at some times been very numerous ; and, 
strange to relate, they have chosen their residence 
in churns and cheese tubs, and under hay carts and 
harrows. Men by no means insensible of the 
faults of the other sex have been disposed to 
charge females with a great proportion of this 
infernal correspondence ; and thus many a harm- 
less dame, who never saw the devil, and perhaps 
few of those men who are most assimilated to him, 
has been considered strongly allied to him, and 
intimately associated with him. Suffice it to say, 
that under these pretences thousands have been 
led to prison and to death. 

But as ages have rolled along, various changes 
have been effected. Many of the most splendid 
forms of idolatry have passed away. Some idola- 
trous nations have long since become extinct, and 
other lands, enveloped for centuries in the gloom 
of pagan superstition, are now brilliant examples 
of the triumphs of Christianity. The Mahome- 



178 TRIUMPH OP CHRISITANITY. 



tans, once invincible and unrivalled in conquest, 
have in more modern times felt the power of 
Christian nations ; and their recent struggle with 
Greece affords us evidence of the decline of their 
influence, and adds brightness to the prospect of 
the ultimate extinction of their power ; and we 
fondly cherish the hope that shortly the rude sons 
of Ishmael shall peacefully assemble around the 
altars of Christ. The Hebrews, so long favored 
of Heaven, whose superior government and religion 
rendered them proverbially powerful and influ- 
ential, at length having denied their King and their 
Savior, were visited with the most distressing 
public calamities, and by a series of defeats were 
reduced to subjection, and have remained scattered, 
though numerous, to the present day. In vain did 
the light of the gospel for ages shine around them, 
for they were uninfluenced by its truths ; but the 
sons of Abraham begin to look to Him whom they 
crucified, and to inquire for Jesus of Nazareth. 
From these circumstances, together with the means 
that are now in use for their conversion, we can- 
not but anticipate the time when the pomp of 
Jewish ceremonies shall yield to the simplicity of 
the gospel. 

The aspect of Christendom is at present much 
more pleasing than at any former period. Christi- 
anity is displaying its excellences unadulterated. 
The excesses of enthusiasm and destructive perse- 
cution are known to us only as the tales of other 



FREE AGENCY. 



179 



times. The Papal power has in a great measure 
departed, and their vast engine of torture, the In- 
quisition, is but a name. The light of science and 
philosophy is dispelling the gloom of superstition 
and ignorance, the influence of reason and correct 
moral principles is daily increasing, and the way 
is opening for the general dissemination of truth 
and the universal reformation of mankind. In the 
accomplishment of so important purposes let every 
benevolent man ardently engage, and he will erect 
a memorial to his name which shall- remain per- 
manent when the vast monuments of Egyptian 
vanity and superstition shall crumble to ruin. 



FREE AGENCY THE GROUND OF HUMAN ACCOUNT- 
ABILITY. 

It is reasonable, from a consideration of the 
character of Deity, to suppose that, when he 
conceived the design of creating the human fam- 
ily, he determined that their existence should be 
attended by those circumstances, and embrace 
those conditions, by which his character might ap- 
pear most glorious, and his creatures be rendered 
most happy. It appears that there were two pos- 
sible systems, either of which might have been 
adopted in the creation of man. First, God might 
have made him a mere engine, propelled by a su- 
perior power, or an irresistible energy in all his 
actions ; or, secondly, he might make him a free 



180 



FREE AGENCY OF MAN. 



moral agent, i. e., a being capable of forming his 
own moral character in conformity with, or in 
contrariety to, the revealed will of his Maker ; 
or, in other words, the Deity might have confined 
exclusively to his own agency all the work and 
all the conditions of man's salvation, or he might 
have had the exertion of two distinct agencies — 
the divine and human ; the divine agency to ac- 
complish all that was necessary to make salvation 
possible for man, and the human agency to submit 
to the terms and fulfil the conditions presented 
upon which he might possess and enjoy this sal- 
vation. These two systems appear so diverse the 
one from the other, that they cannot be confound- 
ed ; therefore one was pursued independently of 
the other. Now, on the former supposition, that 
all is the work of the divine agency, man, called 
the noblest work of God, is rendered a mere pas- 
sive machine, urged on by the mainspring of God's 
irresistible power, and is no more than a curious 
piece of mechanism. The lustre of God's wisdom 
is tarnished ; and no more glory redounds to him 
from the creation of men than from that of brutes. 
And can such beings as these be capable of sublime 
enjoyments ? No. They are incapable of praise 
or blame; and they are not subject to rewards 
and punishments, because they were never the 
principal actors in the accomplishment of any 
thing. If this be the character of man, I can see 
no farther into the system of salvation, but am all 



FREE AGENCY OF MAN. 



181 



in the dark ; while on the opposite supposition, I 
seem to myself to be surrounded with the most 
sublime and glorious scenes that ever interested 
mankind. 

I shall then consider that the first parents of 
the human race were created happy, and placed 
in circumstances of felicity — having all the pow- 
ers of a free moral agent, being " sufficient to 
have stood, though free to fall." They were then 
under a dispensation of justice and a law of 
works. God gave them his commandments, and 
they were to keep them that they might have a 
claim to eternal life. Had they done this, they 
would have obtained a title to heaven on the prin- 
ciples of justice, as a reward for their obedience. 
But they transgressed, and rebelled against God, 
and lost, not heaven, nor a title to heaven, — for 
these they never had, because they never fulfilled 
the conditions, — but they lost the power and 
privilege of ever obtaining it on the principles of 
justice. So man was lost. The infinite God had 
made a law — a transcript of himself — infinite in 
its nature, as the effect of an infinite cause ; and, 
as a transgression of a law partakes of the nature, 
or is limited in its nature by the nature of the law, 
so the transgression is infinite, and requires an 
infinite atonement or demands infinite punishment. 
Man cannot pay the debt, but is subjected to 
eternal suffering. What shall now be done? 
Well might despair now pervade heaven and earth. 
16 



182 



FREE AGENCY OF MAN. 



But, to the astonishment of the hosts of heaven, a 
ransom is found. The mighty God, the everlast- 
ing Father, infinite in his nature, condescends to 
pay the debt, and become a servant to his crea- 
tures. He clothed himself in humanity, took on 
him the seed of Abraham, assumed a body of flesh, 
and became a subject of the broken law in the 
human capacity. The law required perfect obe- 
dience of him, and he could render no more ; 
therefore he fulfilled it for himself, and himself 
only, thereby making himself a blameless sacrifice. 
For if he had fulfilled the broken law for a part 
or the whole of mankind, he would have placed 
them far above their primitive standing, and se- 
cured their eternal, unconditional salvation with- 
out their obedience to any law ; and so he would 
have accomplished nothing by his death ; for if 
the law was fulfilled for them by his obedience, 
all was done, the debt was paid, and he need not 
pay it a second time by his death. But it was not 
so. The law had fallen, the dispensation of jus- 
tice had ceased, and could not be restored. 
What, then, could be done ? Why, Jesus Christ, 
by his obedience, proved that the law was practi- 
cable by men in their primitive state of holiness, 
thus magnifying it and making it honorable ; 
but as it was not suited to the capacity of fallen 
creatures, and was therefore faulty, he took it out 
of the way, nailed it to his cross, and cried, " It is 
finished." Then, by his death, he purchased us 



FREE AGENCY OF MAN. 



183 



from its curse, and answered all its demands, and 
by right of purchase claims us as his own subjects ; 
and he placed us under his own law, and became 
our rightful sovereign, and, as our Prophet, Priest, 
and King, represents us in the court of heaven. 
Now, the dispensation of justice gives place to that 
of mercy ; and the law of works to that of faith. 
This law is suited to our capacity, i. e., we can 
keep it ; for the motive of our actions is princi- 
pally concerned. We are required in all our 
actions to be under the influence of the principle 
of love to God and man. Hence sin is a volun- 
tary transgression of the law ; and a voluntary 
violation of God's law is not necessary ; therefore 
sin is not necessary. I suppose that it is now im- 
possible for men to do any thing towards merit- 
ing salvation, as this is all done by Christ, and 
offered as a free gift. All that is required of man 
respects his entering into the possession and en- 
joyment of what Christ has made his privilege. 
Therefore I believe that the possession and enjoy- 
ment of salvation by Christ depends on the exer- 
cise of the human agency ; on the other hand, he 
may deny the Lord that bought him, and bring 
on himself swift destruction. Now, since men 
are placed again in a state of probation by Jesus 
Christ, I think they will remain probationers while 
clothed with mortality ; for they will always, be 
liable to transgress God's law, and although they 
have been adopted into the family of Christ and 



184 



FKEE AGENCY OF MAN. 



become his real children, yet they may lose their 
birthright, unless God change his nature, and look 
on sin with allowance ; for they may sin, and sin 
unrepented of will bar the gates of heaven. Thus 
Judas, a minister and apostle of Jesus Christ, sent 
forth to heal the sick, cast out devils, and to give 
freely as he had received, after he had yielded to 
the temptation of Satan, and received him into his 
heart, made shipwreck of his faith, and betrayed 
his Master, went and hanged himself, and proba- 
bly will be found at the last day on the left hand 
of the Judge. From these considerations it ap- 
pears that the Deity, under the first dispensation, 
presented salvation to men on the principles of 
justice, i. e., of work and reward ; man refused the 
conditions, and so ruined himself. Still, being 
unwilling that his creatures should perish, God re- 
stores their lapsed powers, and offers them salva- 
tion on the plan of mercy, mere mercy, and gives 
them again the power of choice. If men refuse 
on these conditions, I know of no way in which 
they can be saved, unless God change their nature, 
deprive them of their freedom, and save them in 
a passive state. This I think will never be done 
to accomplish men's salvation. But I believe that 
Christ tasted death for every man ; that the true 
light lighteth every man that cometh into the 
wojid ; in fine, that God does every thing that 
belongs to the divine agency for every one, or 
every thing that is consistent with his attributes ; 



FREE AGENCY OF MAN. 



185 



and that the condemnation of those who are not 
saved will be thus : I have called, but ye have re- 
fused ; I have stretched out my hand, and no 
man regarded. Hence I consider it important 
that the unregenerate beware lest they reject the 
counsels of God against themselves till the sum- 
mer is past and the harvest ended ; and that those 
whose hearts have been illuminated by the Spirit 
of God beware lest the light that is in them be- 
come darkness ; for how great will be that dark 
ness! But they ought to walk in the light, as 
Christ is in the light, that they may have fellow- 
ship one with another, and the blood of Jesus 
Christ may cleanse them from all sin. Then they 
will have their present fruit unto holiness, and the 
end everlasting life. 

AXIOMS. 

Axiom 1. All that which is imputed to intelli- 
gent beings, as vice or virtue, must be an effect 
produced by their own agency. 

Corollary 1. Therefore no effect can be thus im- 
puted to any man, of which another agent is the 
procuring cause, independent of his agency. 

Corollary 2. Nevertheless, since man is rational, 
and has the power committed to him of making 
his moral decisions independent of foreign cir- 
cumstances, and is the efficient procuring cause of 
his own volitions, the first axiom does not exclude 



186 



FREE AGENCY OF MAN. 



the presentation and moral influence of motives, 
even the most powerful. Hence we are prepared 
for, — 

Axiom 2. The Deity, agreeably to man's ration- 
al nature, has so constituted his moral govern- 
ment, that he has introduced a series of means, 
such as the preaching of the gospel, the influence 
of his Spirit, and the prayers of his saints, which 
are presented to the minds of men as motives 
operating favorably to their salvation. 

Corollary 1. But these motives operate morally, 
or in the way of advising, persuading, &c. ; that 
is, in accordance with the laws of mental philoso- 
phy, and not necessarily or physically, according 
to the laws of mechanical philosophy. Hence we 
can argue concerning the influence of motives on 
the human mind as probable, but not as certain. 

Axiom 3. Men are not necessarily governed, or 
physically determined, by motives and means ; but 
these motives and means are overruled by them, 
and received or rejected according to their pleas- 
ure. 

Corollary 1. It follows from the Methodist prin- 
ciples, that there is no necessary connection be- 
tween vice and virtue in any agent, and any 
foregoing event or thing, independent of his 
agency ; or, in other words, that the determina- 
tion of the existence of virtue and vice in any 
one does not necessarily depend on the influ- 
ence of any thing that comes to pass antece- 



FREE AGENCY OF MAN. 



187 



dently, and independently of him ; and so it fol- 
lows, that virtue and vice are not necessarily 
connected with, or dependent upon, any foregoing 
event or existence as its efficient cause ; and if so, 
then no such foregoing means can necessarily pro- 
duce vice or virtue. Hence it follows, that there 
cannot, in any consistency with the Methodist 
scheme, be any reasonable ground of positive pre- 
diction concerning the success of any means and 
endeavors used to dissuade men from vice, or to 
persuade them to virtue ; nor, since men are moral 
agents, that any one means will succeed better 
than another, notwithstanding the usual depend- 
ence of the end on the means, and the constitution 
of the divine government and God's revealed way 
of bestowing or bringing to pass these things in 
consequence of means, endeavors, prayers, &c. 
Such conclusions would depend, in this latter case, 
on the supposition that God, as an arbitrary 
agent, was the determining cause of moral actions, 
good and evil ; but if moral actions in a man de- 
pend on his own self-determination, then God is 
not the author of them, nor can any full conclu- 
sion be drawn, concerning their future existence, 
from any revelation he has made concerning 
them. 

Corollary 2. It follows from Methodist prin- 
ciples, that there is a very important contingent 
connection between vice or virtue and things or 
events foregoing ; or, in other words, that the 



188 



FKEE AGENCY OF MAN. 



existence of virtue and vice has a great degree of 
moral dependence on the influence of things that 
come to pass antecedently, from which, as means, 
its existence is very much promoted, and yet in 
perfect consistency with self-determination, and 
has the entire nature of virtue and vice. And 
hence it follows, that virtue and vice are closely 
connected with foregoing events as their means. 
And if so, then these foregoing means are very 
important in their consequences. Hence it fol- 
lows, that in perfect consistence with the Methodist 
scheme, there is reasonable ground of conjecture 
and strong expectation, concerning the conse- 
quence of means and endeavors used to promote 
virtue and prevent vice, and a decided choice and 
preference of means — some as having a greater 
probability of success than others, both from the 
natural dependence of the end on the means, 
and from the constitution of the divine govern- 
ment, in which is revealed God's way of bestowing 
or bringing to pass these things in consequence 
of means, endeavors, prayers, and deeds. 









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